Here is Gone
by sksai
Summary: A sydrian AU (semi re-education) (angst) (sadness ahead) you have been warned, my friends.
1. Things We Lost in the Fire

**A/N:** long time no see lovers! I know it's been eons since I've updated SR or ACH but I've just been in a bit of a rut and this story is to help me right up out of that.

WHAT SHES STARTING A NEW STORY NO F YOU UPDATE YOUR OTHER STORIES

I hear you angry villagers, trust me I do. And reading this will probably just make you want to kill me more, but I promise, good things come to those who don't kill me. I love you all and hope you enjoy this. It's only going to be about 3 chapters long. And I'll be updating daily (or every other day). Oh and if you want to be super best friends, my tumblr url is newterrains, I post drabbles and one shots there occasionally, and you can come yell at me in my ask box if you want. It'll be fun. xoxoxo

* * *

**Here is Gone - Part 1**

I couldn't do it exactly a year afterward. That would be too obvious. So I had to wait longer. But the year mark is what kept me going. When my body felt so heavy I was certain one more step would shatter me into a thousand pieces, I would close my eyes and remind myself: just one year. One Year. Not that much longer now. Not that much longer at all. I don't know how long it's been since it happened. Over a year. Any day now, I'm going to do it. Any day. Maybe next week. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe today. The memory of what happened that day hits me like a slap. I don't want to remember. But I need to remember. It's all I have left.

* * *

_"Ah, here she is." a familiar voice sloshed through my ears. My eyelids felt like lead weights. I blinked painfully as my memories came rushing back to me. Zoe. The Alchemists. Stanton. They knew._

_"Whatever you do won't change me you know," I told her bitterly. "I'm not afraid of pain. I'm not afraid to die."_

_She laughed. And not a sick, movie villain, we've got you now laugh. But an actual, normal, amused laugh._

_"Oh, Sydney. Really." Donna Stanton shook her head at me. "I never knew you to be so dramatic."_

_"You never knew me at all," I spat._

_"I know you better than you think," was her even reply. "And you know nothing at all."_

_I scoffed loudly. "I know I'm in re-education. That much is obvious."_

_"Wrong again," she said, the corner of her mouth turning upward ever so slightly._

_That._

_Was unexpected._

_"I..." I look around the all white no windowed room we're in. "Where am I?"_

_"It's not of consequence."_

_I rolled my eyes. "Of course not."_

_She gave me a long appraising look. Finally, she leaned in close to me and said, "I had such high hopes for you. You were..." she paused, almost looking a little sad. "You are one of the best we've got."_

_"Had," I corrected._

_She clasped her hands together, ignoring my interjection. You were always such a smart girl. So level-headed. I never thought we'd be having this conversation, Sydney, I really didn't."_

_I sighed heavily and my chest heaved painfully against my restraints. "Let's just skip the lecture and get to the re-education part, shall we?"_

_Her sigh echoed my own. "Sydney, I already told you. We're not taking you to re-education."_

_"Then what the hell do you call this?" I struggled against the straps holding me to the dentist-like chair I was in for emphasis. It was no easy task, as I was still sluggish from the sedative they'd no doubt doped me up with. Far too weak to perform any sort of spell. Maybe that was a good thing. They may know about Adrian. And us. But they didn't know about me. I still had that._

_"An intervention, of sorts." she said. "You were quite hysterical when you arrived-"_

_"When you dragged me here."_

_"Some precautions were necessary," she snapped. She was losing her patience with me. Not that I cared. I lost my patience with her, with all of them, a long time ago._

_"How long did you know?" I asked coldly._

_"I suspected," she leaned away from me, "for quite some time. I convinced myself it couldn't be true. No. Not Sydney Sage. Not you. But I thought, better safe than sorry, so we ran our little experiment and...unfortunately, what I suspected was true." The disappointment in her tone made me sick. I didn't give a damn what she thought about me. Not after what she'd done._

_"Little experiment," I scoffed. "You mean turning my own flesh and blood against me?" Adrian and I had been so careful, especially around Zoe. Hardly even glancing at each other when she was around. And then, as I didn't find out until after all Hell had broken loose, they'd been putting pressure on her. Guilting her into following me around, spying on me, and then of course, there was a moment. A moment where it hurt too much to be careful. And Zoe saw it. I wished I could forget the way she looked at me. Like she didn't even know who I was._

_"She's hardly against you, Sydney. None of us are."_

_"Right."_

_"You should be thanking me, you know. I don't even plan to tell your father about your..." she sniffed. "Indiscretion."_

_"You're right," I deadpanned, "Thanks a million."_

_"You know if it was anyone else, we would have just hauled them off to re-education without a second thought," she said darkly. "But I'm not about to have my best and brightest pulled apart and stitched back together like a rag doll."_

_The fervor in her voice took me by surprise. It almost sounded like genuine compassion. Almost._

_"You are a smart girl, Sydney. And I know that sometimes smart girls make stupid decisions. It doesn't mean you deserve to have your entire future stripped away from you." She took a breath. "No. You don't." Her voice had a hollow, far away sound to it, and I couldn't help but notice it sounded like she was talking to herself._

_"If you're not taking me to re-education," I managed to say without any malice in my voice. "Then what are you going to do to me?"_

_"Don't make it sound so macabre," she sighed. "Whatever your picturing in that overly romantic mind of yours...electro-shock, lobotomy..." she chuckled, "We're not going to hurt you, Sydney."_

_A question was scraping its way up my throat. I didn't want to know. But I had to know. "Where is he?" I swallowed the pain down. "Adrian."_

_She bristled at the mention of his name. "The Moroi has already been dealt with."_

_The sentence wrapped around my ribcage and squeezed. Dealt with._

_"What does that mean?" My voice was a weapon. If they had hurt him...If they had hurt him. "Where is he?"_

_"I would assume he's at home, with his family." she replied airily. "His father was notified of the situation at hand after the boy had been stabilized. He was escorted from the facility this morning quickly and quietly, thank God. It seems Nathan Ivashkov is as eager to avoid a scandal as we are."_

_Her words were just mashed up sounds that didn't make sense. "What do you mean...stabilized? What did you do to him?"_

_"I think it would be unwise of me to tell you," she said, "but I refuse to do this to you, Sydney, without you knowing what's going to happen." and with that she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a tiny cylindrical thing. No bigger than a pinky finger._

_"What is that?" I hissed. My stomach dropped in anticipation._

_She walked over to me, holding the thing an inch from my face. It was a syringe filled with pinkish, sick looking liquid. Nausea gripped me. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know. But I had to know._

_"The drug isn't fully developed yet, we certainly hadn't planned on using it on anyone any time soon, but as they say, desperate times..."_

_I wriggled uselessly beneath my restraints. The material of the chair squeaked loudly. "Really, you're going to use an untested drug on me? What happened to all your talk of restoring my bright future? It won't do me much good if I'm dead."_

_She smiled a wan, papery smile. "It's not untested, Sydney. As I just told you, our first successful test subject was escorted from the premises earlier this morning."_

_Everything. Stopped. My breath. My heart. The room pushed inward. Tears stung at my eyes but I refused to give her the satisfaction. I blinked. I took a breath. I blinked again. This was it. This was reality. Whatever was in the syringe was going to course through my bloodstream in mere seconds. There was nothing I could do to stop it. No spell I knew of. Maybe something to undo the straps so I could make a run for it but there was no time. I was too weak. They'd already used it on Adrian. There was nothing I could do. Nothing._

_"What does it do?" I finally asked. Calm. Dead calm._

_"I'm tired, Sydney." she said, which didn't answer my question. "Tired of fighting with you about this. And I know you're tired too. Let's just get this over with." She uncapped the syringe._

_I was in panic mode now. I had nothing left. My only resource left wasn't a resource at all. I begged._

_"Please, don't." My voice was rough. "Not-not yet. You said you'd tell me what you were going to do. But you haven't. I want to know what's going to happen to me."_

_"I'll tell you this," she said softly. "It will make you sleep. And when you wake up, this will all be behind you. All of it. I promise."_

_"What does that mean?" I exclaimed, but before the words even left my mouth, I knew. I knew what it meant. Memories. They were going to erase my memories._

_As if she read my thoughts, Stanton put her hand on my arm in a gesture of comfort. I tried to jerk away to no avail. "It will not erase who you are, Sydney, if that's what you're afraid of. You'll still be you. It will just clean up all the poison that's seeped its way into your mind. Months of messy, invasive re-education aren't necessary, not for you. You don't need to be re-educated. You just need the poison sucked out. This is much cleaner, quicker, easier. It's better this way."_

_"By poison, you mean Adrian, right?" I couldn't stop the tears now. "And that's what you did to him? Sucked his poison out?"_

_"More or less," she answered, rolling up the sleeve of my shirt._

_"It'll never work," I grit out through my sobs. "Not on me. And definitely not on Adrian. He'd never forget me."_

_She cocked her head to the side, looking at me with pitying eyes. "Sydney, my dear. He already has."_

_"You're lying!" I cried. "You're lying." I thrashed against the straps that held me down. They burned and rubbed against my skin._

_"We wouldn't have released him if the medication hadn't worked." she said tonelessly, like she was positively exhausted. I wanted to spit in her face. "We have a video recording of his progress, for our records, if you'd like to see it. When we questioned him this morning he didn't remember a thing. You do not exist to him any longer."_

_The words weren't real. They couldn't be. None of this. It was all just a nightmare. I willed myself to wake up wake up wake up and when I did I'd snuggle close to Adrian, breathe him in, be safe in his arms._

_"I hate you," my voice shook with rage. "You're a disgusting person."_

_"Be that as it may," she said wearily, "It's time for this to end."_

_In that moment, something sparked within me. Insanity, base survival instinct, I don't know._

_"Donna," I whispered, the first time I ever addressed her by her first name. "Please. Don't do this. You can tell them you did. Tell them you gave me the drug and it worked. And I swear, I swear I'll pretend that it did. I'll do whatever you want, I'll be your good little alchemist. I won't ever, ever disobey another order. I swear. Just don't-" My voice broke, "Just please don't make me forget him. Don't take him away from me. Not in here," I feebly pointed to my head. "Not in my mind. It's all I have left. It's all I have left, please."_

_She looked at me strangely. Her expression a mixture of confusion, disgust, and something else. Something else I couldn't identify. She looked at me and looked at me. And then, finally, she fumbled around in her pockets, I couldn't see what she was doing._

_A needle pierced my skin. I winced. The dry tears pulled against my skin. Too late. Nothing to say now. Nothing to do. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing..._

_"If you so much as step a toe out of line, Sydney Sage..." my vision was already blurring but I could faintly make out her hand in front of my face. And the syringe full of sick pink liquid. It was full...full! She hadn't used it on me. She hadn't..._

_"Thank you," I choked out. I was fading fast. I shut my eyes. Everything was too heavy._

_"Get some sleep, Sydney." her voice called from underwater. "Everything will seem better in the morning."_

* * *

I had kept my promise. After I woke up Stanton and I made a big show of my "memory loss". They recorded it for their records, and I was sent on my merry little way. Only, not really. Stanton watched me like a hawk. I wasn't to have any contact with Jill or Eddie or anyone who'd been involved in the Palm Springs "incident" as they now liked to call it. Certainly not Adrian.

Just thinking his name hurts. It hurts so bad. Not knowing where he is, who he's with. What he's feeling. Did the drug really work on him? I've seen his tape. The one Stanton promised to show me. I almost threw up when I watched it. But maybe...a small, tiny, stupid little part of me wants to believe that maybe it's not true. Maybe he was just pretending, too. Most of me know that's not true. They took him from me. They took me from him. But he doesn't even know that. He doesn't even know me. Not anymore. It's been a year and some months now. A year and some months of doing every little thing Stanton asks of me. If I so much as bellyache about an assignment all she has to do is give me a look. A look that says, I still have it. I still have a pinky finger's length of nightmare that can strip away all that you hold dear. All that you have left. A year and some months. They say time heals all wounds don't they? Well, they're lying.

* * *

"And here I thought you were doing so well." I don't jump at the sound of Stanton's voice. I'm used to her impromptu visits. Popping into to 'check on me' every so often.

"I don't know what you mean," I say coolly as I fold a sweater crisply between my fingers and place it into my suitcase.

"I'm not an idiot, Sydney."

"No, that's certainly not the word I'd use for you." I agree.

She gives me a hard look. "I know what you're doing."

"Going on a well-deserved vacation?" I ask, zipping up my suitcase for punctuation. "Keen observation, Ms. Stanton."

"Going on a suicide mission," she says. I look up.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Sydney." she strides toward me with a vengeance. "We're way past these sort of games. Are we not?"

"I'm not playing a game," I say meeting her hard gaze. "Or maybe I am, can never be sure with you."

"I am not your enemy." Stanton says, sounding genuinely hurt. "I never have been, Sydney."

I choose to ignore this statement. Now is not the best time to rile her. "I don't know what you're getting so worked up about," I sigh. "I formally requested the month off and you cleared it yourself. I think I deserve a little R&R, don't you?"

"I know you've been making calls to Jillian Dragomir," she says, and I mentally wince. I guess I'm not as crafty as I thought. Still, I won't give away a damn thing.

I simply look at her in confusion. "If that were true, how would you even know that? Are you tapping my phone?"

She crosses her arms. "I have my ways."

It had been so long since everything happened, I had been waiting for Stanton to ease off me a bit, and it seemed like she had been. When she cleared me for a month's paid vacation I thought surely I had won back her trust. I guess not. Because I had been calling Jill. She couldn't tell me much. When it all happened, she'd been plucked out of Palm Springs and planted somewhere else, she didn't know where Adrian was. I could only assume that his time in Palm Springs had been erased. She told me she'd spoken to him, briefly, a few weeks after It happened. He didn't remember anything about Palm Springs. In his mind, Jill had gone there only with Eddie, and when Jill asked him what he had been up to in all that time, he breezily shrugged her off, changing the subject as if it confused him. Then she said they'd lost contact, he texted her occasionally, but she could never get him to really _talk_ to her, which was strange. She said it was like he was almost a completely different person.

A couple weeks ago, however, after a particularly soul sucking day of work, I had a message from Jill on my phone. I had explicitly told her never to leave me messages. Fearing the worst, I clicked play. It was just her breathless, excited voice saying "Call me." So I did. She hadn't even said hello. Just said, "New York".

"New York?" I had asked. "What does that mean?"

"I felt something." she gushed. "Through the bond. I haven't felt anything like it in forever. And I saw New York. New York, Sydney!" she screeched when I didn't say anything. "That's where he is."

"Sydney?" Stanton's voice snaps me back into the present. "Hello, am I talking to a brick wall?"

"I don't know," I say, unable to stop myself. "Are you?"

"Sydney," her voice was serious now. "Don't be stupid. I thought...I thought you were over all this. It's been over a year now. You've been fine for so long. Why jeopardize everything now?"

"Over all this..." I repeat dazedly. The words taste sour in my mouth. I suppose she would think that. I've done a pretty good job of hiding my emotions. She doesn't see me when I'm at my worst. When it's all I can do to curl up in a ball and scream into my dark room. Alone. She doesn't know about the times I've got down on my knees and prayed for a sign that Adrian might still be out there somewhere. My Adrian. She doesn't know about the nights I've spent lying awake, fantasizing that when I finally fall asleep he will come to me, in my dream, and say how much he's missed me. He'll kiss my swollen eyes and tell me he loves me so much, that I'm a stupid girl to think he ever could have forgotten about me.

"I won't let you do this, Sydney." Stanton says. "You're too smart to do this."

She is right about one thing. I am too smart. Smart enough to know the best way to weasel yourself out of a caught lie is to tell a half truth.

"I know it's stupid, but I need to do it. For closure." I sigh heavily and look away, like I'm suddenly shy. "I was planning on going to New York anyway, for the museums, you know. And then when Jill called me and told me he might be there...I just thought..." I bite my lip, like I'm telling her my biggest secret. "I just thought that I could, you know, do a little digging. Find out where he's staying or working and see. Just see. I'm not going to talk to him. I mean, obviously. He doesn't know who I am." Even squished inside the soft cushioning of my deceit, it's hard to say out loud. He doesn't know who I am.

She presses her lips in a tight line. "You know I don't believe that for a second."

I smile sweetly. "Which part?"

"Sydney," she warns. "Don't."

"I'm telling you the truth," I lie. "If you don't believe me you can follow me to New York if you want. I honestly don't care what you do with your time. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have a plane to catch." I grab my suitcase by the handle and pull it toward the door of my apartment.

"I want you back here, end of the month, 6 AM sharp." she calls after me. "And so help me, Sydney Sage, if you're not. If I find out if you've done something..." I can hear the anger in her voice, but it's strange and displaced sounding. "You will regret it. I saved you from re-education once. I can't make that promise again. And re-education is nothing to joke about. Believe me when I say you'll wish you took that drug when you had the chance."

My hand still on the knob of my door, I turn to her. Awash with sudden curiosity. "Why did you save me?"

"I told you," she says, obviously taken aback by the question. "I wasn't going to let one stupid mistake ruin you for life. I wanted more for you, Sydney. And all re-education would do is-"

"No," I cut her off swiftly. "I'm not talking about re-education. I'm talking about the drug. I saw the look in your eyes. You were going to give it to me. Even with my blubbering, you had your heart set on wiping me clean. So why? What changed your mind?"

She looks at me and I look at her. She looks away. She looks back. "I made an executive decision that you would be of best use to me if your mind was not compromised."

I hold her gaze for a moment. It's an odd answer. But I see that it's all she's going to give me. I nod slowly, then open the door and turn to head out.

"And-" she says so suddenly I jump. I turn to face her.

"And?" I prompt.

She walks toward me slowly, stopping when she reaches the doorway. Her closeness unsettles me. "That Moroi didn't get the same preamble you did, I simply walked in, questioned him briefly, and then gave him the dose. He had no way of knowing what was in it, what it would do. But he..." she pauses, as if she's questioning whether she should go on. My heart is in my throat. _Keep talking _I want to scream. _Shut up _I want to scream even more. She's never brought up Adrian like this before. Not ever. I don't want to know. But I have to know.

"I think he realized what was happening to him," she says finally. Her voice goes strange and tight. If I didn't know her better I would think she was getting choked up. "As the drug began to kick and he said..." her pauses are like knives in my stomach, "right before he faded out he said, "_Please, don't do this to her. Don't screw up her mind. Her mind is who she is. You can't take that away from her._" And then when the time came, and you were lying there, begging me not to, your words echoing his..." she shrugs, cold and aloof again, like she's recalling a humdrum afternoon, "What do you know? I just couldn't do it."

She walks past me and out the door, pausing briefly to say, "Remember my warning, Sydney. End of the month. 6 AM. Don't be stupid."

My world tilts on its axis. I want to cry but I think I'm in shock. I don't know what any of it means. Why Stanton is humoring me. Why she chose to tell me _that_ now. Why Jill felt Adrian when she did. But for the first time in such a very, very long, sad, dark time. I feel something other than crippling grief. I feel hope.

I'm going to find him. I'm going to bring him back to me. My Adrian is still out there. I just know it.


	2. Don't You Forget About Me

_**A/N: **I'm a day late yeah yeah I'm sorry, I was sick._

Everything feels different in New York. I think that's probably a really touristy thing to think, but as soon as I stepped out of the airport, I felt it. I'm not really a poetic sort of person, but I feel like I could say something really profound about the way air smells or the way the ground vibrates when I walk. Or perhaps it's not so much the city, but the simple fact that for the first time in over a year, Adrian and I are in the same place. The thought alone makes my stomach clench painfully. Maybe I'm just finally having a psychotic break. There's lots of crazy people in New York, I hear. I'd blend in quite nicely.

I'm sitting in my hotel room now, perched on the edge of the bed tensely, as if I'm waiting for someone to give me instructions. Now that I'm here I don't really know what I should do. I feel...ridiculous. New York is a big place. The odds that I'll run into Adrian are slim, to say the least. Jill swore she'd call me if she felt anything that could help me find him. I could do a little research of my own, but that feels...I don't know...weird. Creepy, almost. Pathetic, definitely. I don't know why. The whole point of this trip is for me to find him. But now that I'm here, I realize I'm terrified to find him. I don't want to look him in the eyes and see a stranger. I don't want to see him see me for the first time and not know who I am. What if his eyes pass right over me, like I am the most insignificant thing in the world? I don't want to know. But I have to know.

"I'm sorry about the message, really." Jill's apologetic voice through phone is almost too much for me to bear. I miss Jill, but talking to her is like hearing the song that was playing on the worst day of your life after you haven't heard it in over a year.

"It's no big deal, Jill." I assure her.

"I feel like it's my fault she found out."

"I have no idea how she found out," I tell her. "Sometimes I think she's hardwired into my thoughts."

Jill is silent.

Then she says, "So how's New York?" Bubbly and cheerful, like I'm actually here on holiday.

I try to laugh but it sounds like something else. "It's...well, you know." I say.

"Yeah," her tone deflates. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't know what to do," I tell her honestly. "Part of me thinks I should just go home."

"No!" the fierceness in her voice surprises me. "You can't give up. You just got there."

"It's been almost two weeks," I sigh.

"One week and three days," she corrects me.

"Well it feels like a lifetime," I reply softly. I've scarecely left my hotel room in all that time. The only times I ventured out were to find food and wander aimlessly, half-hoping I'd magically catch sight of him somewhere. With every passing day I realize more and more how absolutely ridiculous this plan is. He could be anywhere, anywhere. He could even be in a different city now. In a different state. Maybe he was just visiting New York when Jill felt him. Oh, God.

Jill is silent again.

Then she says, "You're not you, Sydney. You don't even sound like you."

Her observation surprises me for some reason. "What do I sound like, then?" I ask.

"Someone else," she says. "Just like Adrian. When I talked to him on the phone all that time ago it was like he was someone doing a creepy imitation of Adrian. And that's how you sound right now. You two...you just aren't right without each other."

I have to ignore her words because I'll break if I let myself feel them. "Even if I do find him, which I'm slowly realizing is impossible, what am I supposed to do? Go up to him and say 'Hey you have no idea who I am but you used to be my boyfriend until your memories of me got erased so it would be really awesome if you remembered me now.'?"

Jill sighs. "You could try kissing him."

I snort obnoxiously. "Don't even go there."

"What?" Jill giggles. "It's worked in enough Disney movies."

I know she's trying to make me laugh but I just don't feel like laughing. I don't feel like much of anything. I definitely don't feel like talking anymore.

"I'm sorry Jill, I'm just kind of in a weird mood. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"I've been trying to reach out with the bond, you know, every day." her voice takes on that apologetic tone again. "I don't know why it won't work. I used to wish for the day when I could stop feeling Adrian, now I..." she trails off, her voice small and tight, and I suddenly realize how stupid I really am.

In all this time, it never occured to me. I'd been so clouded by own grief, my own personal demons, I didn't even think.

I'm not the only one who lost him that day.

A battering ram of emotion surges me forward. I sit upright on the bed, newfound determination sizzling beneath my skin. It's easy to give up when it's just your heart on the line, when you've been resigned to sadness for so long, but I refuse to give up for Jill.

"I'll find him." I promise her. "And when I do, the first thing I'm going to do is kick his ass for putting us through this."

She laughs, but I can hear her tears. "Make sure you record yourself doing it, I'd like to see that."

"I'll bring him back to us," I tell her as serious as I've ever been in my life.

"If anyone can bring him back, it's you."

She's right. It is me. I'm the only one who can do this. And I'm not going to get anywhere laying around in bed and wndering the streets aimlessly and moping. I thought when I got here I'd know exactly what to do but being in the city somehow depressed me more than anything else. Being so close to Adrian yet so far. But I have got to snap out of this fog I've surrounded myself in. Now.

"I can try contacting him if you want." Jill offers, "He never answers the phone and hardly ever returns my texts. But still, I could try and find out where he is-"

"Don't bother," I tell her, already formulating a plan in my head. "I told you I'm going to find him and I will. I'll call you when I've got him."

I could almost see Jill's smile when she spoke, "That's the Sydney I know."

* * *

It's been four days since I spoke to Jill. In those days I've been doing nothing but searching. I haven't come up with much. Okay, I haven't really come up with anything at all. I ran Adrian's name through an advanced internet search and came upon a few things that all turned out to be dead-ends. Against my better judgement I even busted out the special software the Alchemists use when we need to find someone. I've no doubt in my mind Stanton somehow has a way of monitoring what I search on it, but I know that she knows why I'm here. She knows I want to find Adrian. She just doesn't know what I plan to do once I've found him. Nothing came up on that, either, which is strange. I wonder if Stanton went as far as to put some sort of block on my computer so that I couldn't find him, but that would be awfully elaborate, even for her.

Today, I am taking a break. I will not let myself get frustrated. I will not think about the fact that each day I don't find Adrian is a dollop of sand through the hour glass. I have two weeks left in my time here. Fifteen days. I try not to hate myself for the time I have already wasted. There is something that needs to be done and I will do it. That's all there is to think about. All there is to do.

But not today. Today is a day for me. I am in New York, after all. It is a lovely place to be. I never thought I'd really be a New York sort of person, but I like it. I like walking around during day and letting myself get lost. I like taking the subway. I like the crowds. I like the noise. I like the precariously organized chaos of it all. I am _such_ a tourist, but the romance of this place is one of the few things keeping me together.

I start at the Metropolitan Mueseum of Art. There is something intangibly magical about museums to me. The quietness of them, the stillness. Even with the hustle and bustle of families corraling their children or tour groups shuffling by, it's easy to shut them out. When I was younger, my sister Carly used to like museums, too. Not for the exhibits, she hardly even glanced at them. She said she just liked to walk around and pretend she was invisible. I remember back then we read this story together about a brother and sister who ran away from home and lived secretly inside the Met for weeks before anyone even noticed they were there. Carly loved that story. She used to tell me that she was going to do that, and I'd have to come with her, because I was the smart one.

I miss Carly. As soon as I arrived at the Met I couldn't help but snap a photo on my phone and send it to her with the caption, _**Remember?**_

My phone buzzes before I can even put it away.

_**How could I forget! ! ! !**_

I smile at her overuse of exclamation points. I don't know how she does it. She's always in such a positive place. In spite of the things she's been through, she just keeps on going. I thought I was like that too. But this, I don't know if I can keep going. It's depressing, because I know I'm not this person. This person that shuts down and lets heartbreak consume them. Jill was right. This isn't me at all. I am not a victim. I am a survivor. I am a fighter. I am a winner. Sometimes I just need a few exclamation points to remind me.

I don't stay for long at the Met. Under normal circumstances I could happily stay here all day and night, curl up in an antique bed like the kids from the story. But...it's an embarrassing thought...I don't want to do this without Adrian. I want to walk through the rooms with his hand in mind, leisurely stopping in the middle of it all to kiss for no reason. It's too hard to deny myself the pleasure of drooling over some of the Greek and Roman pieces, but then my mind drifts to Adrian again. Our day at the Getty Villa. His lips on mine, the promise of our future together. I curse my brain. Today is not about him. Everything is about him. But not today. It's time to leave this place.

My next stop is the American Museum of Natural History. The name alone excites me more than it probably should. In a wild rush of giddiness and spontaneity I stop in a small deli on the way just because I can. Halfway through my sandwich it hits me suddenly that there's one resource I've yet to exhaust in my search for Adrian. I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about him today, but this thought could actually be productive in finding him. A scrying spell. I couldn't do it myself. Those days are long gone. But if I could get in contact with Ms. Terwilliger again, I could possibly convince her to help me. Surely she has at least one decent virgin witch at her disposal. Maybe she's replaced me with a new apprentice. I frown, the thought settling unpleasantly in my chest. My appetite gone, I fold up the rest of my sandwich and stand to leave. As I'm opening the door to exit I look down and brush away the crumbs that have collected on my skirt. I pop my head back up and I smack right up against someone. The crowded aspect of the city is losing its charm.

"Oh, pardon me," I say quickly as I walk away, knowing the most I'll get in response is a half-hearted curse word.

"Actually, um miss?" Footsteps trail behind me. A hand touches my shoulder. I whirl around and

Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God. This isn't possible.

"Sorry," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I was just watching you from across the street while you were eating and..." I don't even know what he's saying. He's standing right in front of me and oh My God my heart is pounding and I can't do this and this was not supposed to happen. Not today.

He stops talking abruptly, looking troubled. "Oh, wow. I um. I can see I've freaked you out." He laughs and it's a strange, squeaky sound. It doesn't sound like his laugh. "I'm sorry, wow I just realized how creepy I must seem. But I'm not!" he adds quickly.

I can't breathe.

"You know what," he says, cringing. "Never mind. I'm uh, I'm sorry I freaked you out. Have a nice day." And he turns to walk away.

"No!" My voice finally decides to make an appearance. Just breathe, Sydney, I tell myself. You weren't prepared for this but it's happening and you have to deal with it. You have to deal with it right now.

He turns back around. I can't begin to explain how looking at him makes me feel. I have never felt an urge as strong as the one I have to reach out and touch him. But I can't. I can't. I can't.

"I um," I struggle to find words, "I'm sorry-you just um...you surprised me." I try to smile. "What were you saying?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Sometimes I just do things without thinking."

I nod because I don't know what else to do. "Me too," I tell him.

He smiles brightly and it's almost more than I can bear. "My name's Adrian," he says, extending his hand toward me. Oh God, I can't touch him. I'll die if I touch him. Robotically I bring my hand to meet his and he squeezes mine tight as he shakes it. My heart squeezes with it.

"I was saying that I was watching you from across the street, not in a creepy way," he adds again. "I was just passing by and I saw you through the window and you just looked like you were thinking about something _really_ intensely. It was really interesting to me, because you were just eating a sandwich, but the expression on your face was like..." he shakes his head, like he doesn't know what he's trying to say. "I'm an artist." he says, with an exaggerated shrug. "And I'm working on this series that features human expression. I know this is really forward, but I was wondering if you would mind sitting for me sometime?"

I blink at him. "What?" The euphoria of seeing him again is wearing off. I'm replaced with a sudden coldness. He's looking at me like I'm a stranger. He really has no idea who I am.

"Sitting for me," he repeats. "You know, so I could paint you."

I don't know what I thought was going to happen. The drug really did work. All this time. He doesn't know me. But he will. Whatever they've done to him, it has to be reversible. It just has to be.

"You just have, like, a really expressive face." he tells me. The way he's talking is strange. I'm starting to understand what Jill meant. There's something wrong. This isn't...him. "I can't pay you or anything, but who knows, after I'm a super famous artist, you could be the next Mona Lisa." He flashes me a flirtatious smile and for a moment a sliver of My Adrian shines through.

"What did you say your name was?" he asks me.

"I didn't," I say carefully. I don't have time to be shocked or sad or any other emotion. I have work to do. "My name's Sydney."

Recognition flashes in his emerald eyes. "Oh shit, I totally know you!" he exclaims. "Sydney Sage?"

"Excuse me?" My heart stops. It couldn't possibly be that easy.

"Yeah, we met awhile back, at Court." he says, his eyes flicking to my tattoo. "You were the alchemist, I was the startingly handsome Moroi." He laughs, cocking his head to the side. "Don't you remember?"

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The irony of that question.

"Oh," I say after a moment, swallowing down my nausea. "Right. You're _that _Adrian."

"Sydney Sage the alchemist." he scoffs, "Jeez, I sure know how to pick them...guess you definitely won't be sitting for me, then, huh?"

The sound of my name coming out of his mouth in his weird, fake, not-Adrian voice is throwing me. But I do my best to stay in control. "What makes you think that?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Well, being that you're who you are and I am who I am," he gestures between us, "our people aren't really known to be the fraternizing type."

You got that right, Strange Adrian.

"Funny story," I reply dryly. "I'm not exactly an alchemist anymore." It's not a lie. In my heart, I am not an alchemist. Haven't been for a long, long time.

"Really?" He says, clearly surprised. "Oh shit, did you get fired over what went down with Rose?"

"No," I shake my head. "It's um...it's a long story."

"So what brings you to the city, then?" he asks. "If you're not here on alchemist business."

"Why do you want to know?" there's a teasing lilt to my voice, but it's an honest question. He doesn't know who I am, so why is he interested at all?

"Just curious," he shrugs. "Pretty girl in a big city all on her own? There's got to be more to that story."

There it is again. A piece of My Adrian. I smile in spite of everything. "I'm...looking for someone." I finally settle on saying.

"Ah, the plot thickens," he smirks. "And what will you do when you find them?"

"I'm still working on that," I smile back.

"Well hey, maybe we can help each other out. You sit for me and I can help you find whoever you're looking for." He leans forward and my heart flips in my chest. "I'm a Hufflepuff, you know."

"W-what does that mean?" I sputter, laughing.

"It means I'm trustworthy, duh!" he throws his arms up in mock outrage. "And I'm a particularly good finder. Found you, after all, didn't I? And I wasn't even trying. Imagine what I could do if I actually set my mind to it." His smile is suggestive and deadly. My Adrian.

Oh God stop flirting with me you stupid, ridiculous idiot.

I look away, this is all just too much. I look back at him. He seems more like himself now. Maybe he just needs to...spend a little time with me. Maybe that will bring him back. It's a long shot, but it's all I've got.

After a long moment I give him a decisive nod. "I suppose that's a relatively fair trade."

* * *

The first thing I do when I get back to my hotel room is call Jill.

"I found him."

"Already?!" she shrieks. "Oh my God, how did you do it? Where was he?"

I sigh heavily, falling back against the bed. "Well, I guess, technically...he found me. I was leaving a deli and he just bumped right into me."

"Oh my God," she repeats, "So what happened? Did he remember you? Did you kiss him?"

I laugh. For the first time in over a year, I really, really laugh. "No. To both of those things."

"Oh..." her voice falters. "So much for hoping."

"There's still hope," I tell her adamantly. "I know what you mean now, about him seeming like a different person. He was acting really strange. But there would be moments every now and then when he was Adrian again. Our Adrian. And I just think that maybe if I can just..." I sigh. "I don't know. But there has to be a way to bring him back. I'm meeting up with him again the day after tomorrow."

"What?" Jill exclaims. "Like, on a date?"

"No," I say. "He...he wants to paint me."

"Oh. My. God!" she shrills for the third time. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Me neither," I gush. "Jill, I've missed him so much. I feel like we're so close and I'm freaking out. I wasn't expecting this to happen so fast. I don't...I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Don't freak out," she orders me. "We're halfway there. More than halfway. I mean he stalked you from across the street and then convinced you to let you paint him, he's obviously drawn to you even if he doesn't realize it. Right?"

"I hope so," I whisper.

We talk for awhile about what I can do to bring him back. She still thinks jumping his bones is the best way to go. As much as I like that plan, I don't think it's the best approach.

"I have a good feeling about this," she tells me as we're saying our goodbyes. "A really good feeling."

* * *

We haven't spoken much since I arrived. He's different again. I can't place what's so off about him, but it's really disconcerting. He's been sketching me while I sit motionlessly staring out the window of his impressive studio apartment. He said this was just to 'get a feel for my face'...whatever that means. The walls are white and empty, they don't remind me of him at all.

After about twenty minutes of silence he says, "We can take a break now, if you want. Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure," I say to his back as he's already striding toward the kitchen.

"Should have offered when you got here," he calls. "Sorry. Like I told you. My brain's kind of scattered sometimes."

Right. I frown. Scattered.

"What would you like?" he asks.

"Um, just...water would be fine." I call back awkwardly.

He returns a few seconds later with a glass of ice water and hands it to me.

"Thank you," I say.

He nods, sitting on the stool he's been sketching me from and then frowns.

"Are you..." I say and his head snaps up to look at me. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" he asks, "Oh, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I shake my head. "You just seem a little..." I stare at him, trying to find the man I love inside the stranger who is staring back at me. "off."

He holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. "I'm having kind of an off day, I guess. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," I tell him. Another silence follows. "Do you want to...talk about it?"

He looks at me again, strangely, like I've surprised him. He opens his mouth to speak just as the door to his apartment opens with a loud creak.

"Adrian?" a voice calls as we both look toward the noise. "You home?"

"In here!" he calls back, a wide grin on his face.

The sound of keys dropping onto porcelain slams through my ears. My heart hammers in my chest in time with the footsteps approaching where Adrian and I are sitting.

A lovely brunette young woman strides into the sitting room. She is pale and lithe, a faint dusting of freckles spread across her perfectly pronounced cheekbones. She hoists up the brown sack of groceries balanced expertly on her slim hip. "Hi!" she greets me with a big smile. She looks toward Adrian and swats him with her free hand. "Aren't you going to introduce me, asshole?"

Oh no. Oh, no. Oh. No.

"Where ever are my manners?" he rolls his eyes at the girl, then smiles at me. "This is Sydney. I met her the other day and blackmailed her into modeling for me."

She laughs a high, musical laugh and gives me an apologetic look. "You've been stuck here alone with him all this time? My condolences."

"Hey!" he whines at her, "I'll have you know Sydney and I go way back. We're old friends, right Syd?"

I think I'm about to pass out. Did he just call me..._Syd_? Is this...real life?

I smile thinly at them both. I am not going to pass out. I am not going to pass out.

"Oh," Adrian says, looking back and forth between us. "Duh." He slaps himself on the forehead. "Sydney," he points to the girl standing beside him. "This is my girlfriend, Rebecca."


	3. We Might As Well Be Strangers

**A/N:** I'm sorry this update is late I got distracted by THAT TFH QUOTE and VA MOVIE CASTING and wowowow feels everywhere, I also decided to rethink this story a bit, I just wanted it to be a little 3 shot but then I realized solving everything so easily did a bit of a disservice to it. I'm not changing any of my original plan for the story and how it plays out, just adding more to it.

Basically what I'm trying to tell you is that you shouldn't believe anything I say. But there is more to come! (you can believe that part) (or can you) (jk you can)

* * *

The thing is, I'm not really surprised. I mean, it's been over a year. As I've come to accept, in all that time, he really and truly had no memories of me whatsoever. Aside from our brief encounter at Court. My stomach is churning violently, my throat is dry and tight, I see spots in my peripheral vision, but no. I'm not really surprised. I mean, he's Adrian. He's handsome, he's witty, he's charming. Or at least, My Adrian is. I'm still not sure what _this_ Adrian is or what he's done with the one I love.

A lifetime of strict alchemist teachings on formality outweighs my emotional panic. I stand up shakily and extend a no doubt sweaty palm toward Rebecca. "It's nice to meet you," I tell her with a small smile.

She thrusts the bag of groceries into Adrian's arms and meets me halfway. "You too!" she chirps. She's even lovelier up close. Her eyes are wide and deep set, her lips plump and dark pink. Mixed with her freckles and short, choppy haircut she is the perfect balance of impish and sultry beauty. It's been awhile since I've seen a Moroi female up close, their perfection really is something otherworldly.

The lump in my throat is too big to swallow. I sit back down. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes slightly. "Are you...an alchemist?" My tattoo must be noticeable in this light.

"Ex-alchemist," Adrian corrects before I can even speak, "She's cool, she's a friend of Rose's, that's uh...sort of how we..." Adrian stumbles over the sentence, like he doesn't quite know what he's saying, "you know...met."

Rebecca snorts. "Oh my gosh, I'm an idiot. I thought you were joking about knowing each other." She looks back to me curiously. "So, do you like, live close by?"

"Oh, no." I say quickly. "I'm just...here visiting."

Adrian's face twitches slightly, but he remains silent.

Rebecca's eyes widen. "So what, you guys just like, ran into each other by chance?" She grabs the bag of groceries back from Adrian and sighs deeply. "I love that. That whole serendipity thing." She nudges Adrian slightly with her shoulder. "Maybe you can help Mr. Doom and Gloom over here out of his funk."

"I am not in a funk," he pouts. "I _was_ in a funk. The funk is over."

"Says the guy who hasn't finished a painting in months!" she shoots back playfully. She sighs again and looks between us. "Well. I'll get out of your way, don't want to kill your vibe!" She leans in to brush her lips against Adrian's temple and my fists clench involuntarily. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and open them. She's already in the kitchen, softly humming to herself while she puts away the groceries.

"Should I go?" I ask. I need to get out of here. I need to rethink my entire plan. I thought when Adrian met me the other day he had at least been a little bit interested in me. I thought maybe I could get him to talk to me, get my Adrian to shine through again. I thought if he was at least attracted to me he would be willing to listen to me. I was not ready to deal with this.

"What?" he seems surprised by this question. "Oh, no. Of course not."

"Are you sure?" I look back to the kitchen but Rebecca has disappeared. "If you're busy-"

"I'm not," he says and it's the most definitive thing I've heard him say all day. He smiles at me and I have the overwhelming urge to move forward, place my hands on either side of his face and kiss him right on his mouth. I don't do that, obviously. But oh, I want to. I need to get out of here.

He sighs and looks at what he's been sketching. He frowns and mumbles something indiscernible to my ears.

"Can I see?" I ask, trying to hide my manic curiosity.

"Uh," he furrows his brow, seemingly flustered by the request. "No. I mean..." he rips the paper from the book and crumples it up, shoving it down the pocket of his jeans. "It's not even...I sort of lost focus of what I was trying to do...it's just-"

"Just what?" I prompt eagerly. I swear if I could just get him to_ talk _to me...

"Honey!" Rebecca bounds back into the room clad in a lime green sports bra and form fitting stretchy black pants that cut off at her slender calves, a satchel of some sort bouncing behind her. "Oops," she stops short when she sees the intense look on my face. I immediately flatten my expression. "Am I interrupting the magic?"

"Hardly," Adrian laughs and turns to her, his gaze trailing slowly up her body. "You going to class?"

"Yep!" She swings what she's got slung over her shoulder around to reveal a rolled up yoga mat stuffed inside a drawstring backpack. She smiles sweetly at him and her voice turns soft. "You gonna tell me bye?"

Adrian returns her smile with warmth and steps off his stool to walk over to where she stands, waiting for him.

Oh.

God.

Her hands encircle his neck as his hands rest firmly on her hips and their lips meet in a deep, loving kiss. I know I should look away. But I can't. All I can do is stare as the nightmare unfolds in front of me.

"Have a good class," he murmurs to her, eyes closed, foreheads touching.

"I always do," she giggles. "One of these days I'm going to get you to come with me."

Adrian snorts. "Never."

"Never say never." She teases, leaning in for another quick, soft kiss. "Love you."

"Love you too, babe." he says and I have to just...turn myself off. As if there is a little switch inside myself that I can flip. It's almost like a natural defensive reflex. My brain knows that I can't feel this sort of pain. Can't let myself break down. I am numb to this. I am just simply numb. This isn't my Adrian, I tell myself. My Adrian would never fall in love with someone else. Even if he didn't remember me, how could he? He couldn't. It's not him. It's not him. It's not him.

The more I think it the harder it is to believe.

Rebecca's voice snaps me back together. "Nice meeting you again, Sydney. You guys have fun!" and she's off. Bouncy and full of life. I want to hate her, and I do, just a little bit. But weirdly, it's her happiness I covet more than anything else. I barely remember what it's like.

After she's gone, Adrian returns to his perch, brooding and frowning again.

What is wrong with him? Why is he like this? Is he unhappy? An immature thought bubbles up inside me that maybe ever since he saw me he feels different, like maybe he's slowly getting his memories back. I know it's ridiculous, but these days, so am I.

After a few moments of silence I clear my throat. "She seems...really nice," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can fake.

Adrian's head snaps up, a bewildered expression on his face, like he forgot someone was even in the room with him. "Rebecca?" He smiles. "Oh, yeah. She's great."

Great.

"How long have you two been together?" I ask casually. That's a casual thing to ask, right?

"Um, about 6 months."

Great.

I nod. "Is she an artist as well?"

He laughs at that. "Oh, no. Definitely not. She's a yoga instructor. She's really into that...whole thing." He frowns slightly, like he's lost his train of thought.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask again. I know I probably seem intrusive but I don't really care. "If you want me to leave-"

"No," he says, his ever present troubled expression deepening. "No, no. I'm..." he sighs, running his hand over his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry. I just...feel like an asshole. I mean, I asked you to do this for me...and you get here and I can't seem to get my shit together," he gestures toward the sketchbook, "I'm uh...a little embarrassed, is all."

"You don't ever have to be embarrassed in front of me," I say softly, without thinking.

His eyes cut to me sharply and I realize he must think I'm so strange. Whatever. I think he's strange, too. But still, I can tell something is bothering him, and I don't like it.

"You seem a lot different from when I first met you," he says.

I feel myself tense at his statement. "So you do."

He smirks. "Guess we've both changed a lot."

"I guess so."

To my surprise, he stands up and walks toward me. He sits down beside me on the couch. He doesn't say anything. I turn to him, sucking in my breath. From the side he looks so gaunt. I want to reach out and stroke his cheek, pull him close to me. He is so far from himself. He needs me.

He turns to me and startles at how close I am to him, but doesn't turn away. His green eyes stay glued to mine. "Can I tell you something if you promise not to think I'm weird?"

I can't help but laugh. "I already think you're weird."

He smiles at that, and it's almost him.

"I guess you would, huh?" he asks, shaking his head slightly. "I've been acting like a psycho ever since we met. I'm just..." he pauses, shoots me look as if to say, _this is __**the**__ thing, _"I'm a Spirit user."

I blink at him. "I already knew that."

"Oh," he squints. "You did?"

"Of course," I say. "The alchemists keep very thorough records of the Moroi, especially the royals."

He nods slowly. "Right. Well. Then I guess you already know about Spirit and the more...negative effects it can have on those who wield it."

"I do," I say, confused as to where he's going with this.

"Well, the thing is, it sucks. The whole going crazy thing. I used to drink, a lot...like I mean..._a lot_." his look turns severe. "I drank so much I lost track of time-It was bad. It got so bad there's a lot of weird gaps in my memory from my week long binges. I was just so...lost, you know? I thought moving somewhere different would help. New place, new people, new start. But it didn't help, not really. No matter what I did I just felt so...nothing. About everything. Does that make sense?"

I can barely force myself to nod. Gaps in his memory. Jesus. Of course you have gaps in your memory, you idiot, your brain has been chemically altered. He's so clueless it's almost embarrassingly painful for me to listen to him talk. I want to reach out and grab his hand but, of course, I can't do that.

"So anyway, I was in a really low place for a long time. I mean...I'm sure you know what went down between me and Rose," he scoffs, "That really hit me hard. And I just sort of gave up on myself. I couldn't deal with any of it. The heartbreak, the listlessness, the Spirit gnawing away at my mind. I just gave up."

I don't know what to say. I don't understand why he's telling me all this. The ache in his voice is tangible. I just want to take him in my arms, but I can't, I can't do anything. So I do nothing.

"The point is," he says after a moment, and I'm grateful I didn't have to fill the silence, "things obviously got better. I mean, I met Becca. I started painting again. I stopped drinking. Well, I stopped over-doing it, anyway. And I finally made the decision to get myself some help when it came to Spirit. I started taking medication to help keep it all at bay."

"Medication," I repeat. "You mean, like, anti-depressants?" Adrian was always against taking pills to nullify the Spirit.

"Yeah," he says, looking away. "They help. Or well, they used to."

"What do you mean?" I ask gently. I feel like I'm approaching a frightened animal. I don't want him to stop talking to me and run away inside himself.

He sighs heavily. "I thought they were a godsend at first. The darkness dissipated. I felt generally better about everything. But..."

"But?" I am literally on the edge of my seat.

"As far as my painting goes," he sighs, "it's totally fucked it all up."

I raise my eyebrows. "I don't understand."

"At first I just thought I was still adjusting to it you know, so I gave it time, but it's just like...I don't even enjoy it anymore. I don't get visions like I used to. And that was one of my favorite things about painting. Looking at a blank canvas and seeing the endless possibilities I could fill it with. Now...I just look at a blank canvas and that's all I see. Hell, I look in the mirror and that's all I see. I'm just...blank."

"Adrian..." I whisper and he turns to me, and it takes every ounce of willpower I posses not to reach for him.

"I know in the big scheme of things, I shouldn't care about it. I mean, it's just a hobby. Being a happy and productive person is much more important than that. Right?"

Wrong. I shake my head, "I don't think it's really my place to say anything." I tell him reluctantly. "It wouldn't be appropriate-"

"By all means," he laughs, throwing an arm out into the air in a wild gesture, "be inappropriate with me. Because I'm at a fucking loss, here."

I lick my lips and try to form what I'm going to say into something coherent. "I think..." I start slowly, "I think that Spirit is a part of who you are. I mean, it's your element. You were born with it, you were meant to have it. And I know that it has its negative effects, believe me I do, but...I don't think..." I pause, attempting to gauge his reaction to what I'm saying thus far. He is just staring at me, rapt. "I don't think taking medication to stifle it is good for you." I say quickly. "I'm sorry, I know that must seem awful to say, but-"

"Really?" he asks, cutting me off. "So you don't think I should be taking it? You think I should stop?" He looks eager, like a little boy asking for permission.

"Your art may just be a hobby," I say, "but hobbies are a part of who you are, too, you know. And I don't think taking a pill that strips away a part of yourself, even if it makes you a little bit sunnier of a person, is good. That's just my opinion. There are other ways to deal with Spirit."

"Like what?" he asks dismally, "I can't go back to drinking my life away."

"I don't mean that," I sigh. "Look, I'm sorry I said anything. I told you, it's not my place." It _is_ my place. I am so frustrated I could scream.

"No, no." he shakes his head fiercely. "I'm glad you're saying this, really. I feel..." he drops his voice low. "I feel the same way, to be honest. I was just so low, so pathetically low, that I was desperate for anything to fill the void. But I'm sick of this numb feeling. It's bullshit."

I nod. "I understand. Maybe...maybe you should just try going off the medication for a little while, see how it makes you feel?"

He sighs heavily, leaning his head back against the couch. "That's the thing. I already have."

"You have?" I try to mask the excitement in my voice.

He nods. "A couple weeks ago. I mean the shit's still in my system, mostly. I've been on it for a long time. But I definitely feel different. Fucked up, out of control, up and down like I've never been. But I mean...at least I'm feeling something, right?"

He's been off the medication for a couple weeks. That must have been why Jill felt him when she did. And why she hadn't been able to reach out with the bond before then. Maybe the medication was blocking her out. I don't even know if that's a thing but my heart thumps with hope. Could this mean he's coming back to us?

"Jesus," he says in response to my silent stare, "You must really think I'm crazy now."

"Definitely." I give him a small smile. "But, you know, I don't mind crazy so much."

He cocks his head to the side, smiling crookedly. It plucks the strings of my heart painfully. "You're a pretty cool chick, Sydney."

"I'm glad you think so," is all I can muster in response. "You're not so bad yourself."

"I am sorry for unloading like that on you, though." he winces. "I mean, shit. I don't even know you."

My smile disappears.

"I guess it's true about it being easy to pour your heart out to strangers, but that's...really embarrassing." He laughs nervously. "I didn't mean to go all Dr. Phil on you, seriously."

"I told you, you don't have to be embarrassed in front of me." I hate this. I hate this so much I could cry. I feel the tears stinging but I blink them back. I just want to slap him, shake him, make him remember. Why doesn't he just remember?

"Yeah, well." He says softly. "Same goes for you. I mean, you can feel free to unload any personal demons you've been lugging around in your soul, it's the least I can do."

I scoff and look away. "I appreciate the offer, but I think it's safe to say I'm demon-free."

"Oh really?" he smirks. "Little Miss Perfect doesn't have a care in the world? Hmm?" The teasing edge to his voice make my heart twitch. He sounds like Adrian again. "Come on, I don't buy that. I thought we were being real with each other."

"We are," I say, turning back to him. The closeness of our bodies, inches apart, nearly destroys me.

"So, then, lay it on me." He urges. "How about that mystery man you're searching for? I know there's more to that story."

I sputter, unsure of what to say. "Who ever said it was a man I was searching for?" I finally manage.

His grin is smug and arrogant. I want to kiss it right off his face. "I can just tell. It was that wistful look you got in your eyes when you said it."

I snort. "Oh, please."

"Seriously!" he laughs. "I thought you were gonna swoon on the spot. I was already prepared to be all manly and catch you."

"You're ridiculous," I shake my head at him, but I know that I am blushing. I'm biting the inside of my cheeks as not to smile.

"Ridiculously right," he raises one stupid, sexy eyebrow. "Come on, you can tell me. What is it, some tragic love story of an ex-boyfriend you're trying to win back or something?"

The laughter dies in my throat. I open my mouth to speak, then close it again. I look away.

"Oh." he says very quietly, "Is that actually it?" He shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm an asshole."

"No, no, it's fine." I say quickly. "I just, um, I don't really want to talk about it right now."

He nods, "Yeah, I understand. I'm sorry, I was just messing around. I didn't mean to make you upset."

"I'm not upset," I say but I can barely squeeze the words out of my throat. I don't know why this is my breaking point. I don't know why the tears won't blink back this time. I don't know why Adrian just won't look at me and see me. Know me. Love me. I don't know why.

"Hey," Adrian says, leaning toward me. I look away quickly, wiping furiously underneath my eyes. Do not cry in front of him. Oh my God, do not cry in front of him.

"You know what I think?" he says, still far too close for me to be able to breathe. "Fuck that guy. Seriously. He's a loser."

I sniff out a harsh laugh. "You don't even know him." It is a painfully true statement.

"I don't need to," Adrian replies, "Hey. Look at me."

I turn to him slowly. He is so close to me. His eyes are boring straight into mine. I have missed his eyes so much. The color is as deep and green and breathtaking as ever.

"Look, I don't we don't really know each other, but I can tell you're a pretty awesome person, so forget about that guy."

"Sometimes I wish I could," I whisper hoarsely. "But I can't."

Adrian shakes his head. "You deserve someone who wants to be with you, not someone who runs off to New York to make you chase after him. That's crap. I mean you're smart and funny and totally cute. You won't have any trouble finding a guy who'll treat you right."

"Oh yeah?" I ask him bitterly.

"Yes," his tone is serious and genuine. "I know how it feels to be head over heels for someone who doesn't give a shit. And pining after them is just going to make you more miserable. I've been where you are, Sydney. Believe me. It sucks."

I shake my head, unable to deal with the stupidity of this situation. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a dick about it or anything," he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. It sends a horrible jolt through my body. "I just think you're a cool girl and I think you deserve better, that's all."

"Well, thanks for your input." I say stiffly, moving away from his touch.

He shrugs. "I used to think I would never get over Rose. I mean, seriously. It's so weird to think about now, but that's what heartbreak feels like. And then I met Rebecca and everything just...clicked."

I turn my head sharply to face him. "Really." Rage is simmering in my blood.

He nods, a goofy smile appearing on his face. "Really. I mean, she found me when I was at my worst. And she was just so full of positive energy. She was like the light to my darkness, you know? And she forced me to pick myself up and start again. She was the one who pushed me in the right direction when it came to getting help for my Spirit issues." His expression darkens. "Which is why I kinda feel like shit that I've stopped taking the pills. I don't want her to be disappointed in me, you know. But I think she'll understand. I mean, she understands me."

At least now I have a logical reason to hate Rebecca. She is the one who convinced Adrian that bottling up his Spirit would be a good idea. It's not like I don't approve of anti-depressants to help those who can actually benefit from them, but this is Adrian. His Spirit is a part of him, God damn it. And Adrian, my Adrian, would never give it up, negative effects and all. He liked being able to heal. He liked being able to use it for good. It was important to him, it made him feel like _he _was important. And no one has the right to take that away from him. Certainly not Rebecca, who sees it as nothing but a problem to be fixed. Rebecca, who has no idea how many nights I spent with my arms wrapped tightly around Adrian, my hands stroking his hair, whispering soft words of encouragement, kissing away the cold sweat on his brow. That's what you do when the man you love is suffering. You hold him, you comfort him, you remind him how strong he is. You help him through it. You don't tell him to throw away part of who he is just because you don't like it or because you don't understand it.

I stand up. I've had enough of this. "Not trying to be a dick about it or anything," I say as I stride past him toward the door. "But if your girlfriend who's been living with you for six months can't see that her little suggestion is killing you, that you absolutely hate the way it makes you feel, that it took away something as important as your art, your _personality,_ then no." I open the door and turn to him, my blood boiling. "I don't think she understands you at all."

I turn on my heels and leave, slamming the door behind me. I don't care if he's angry at me now. In fact, I hope he is. Anger is a hell of a lot better than nothing.

* * *

When I get back to my hotel room, I immediately stalk to the bed and force myself to pass out. My dreams are disconnected and loud, and I wake up 2 hours later with a splitting headache, feeling worse than I did when I fell asleep.

I know I need to call Jill, but I don't know what I'm going to tell her. She was so optimistic about today and I just don't have the heart to break hers.

I reach for phone, anyway. My heart stops when I see the alert message on the screen.

I have a voicemail from Adrian. We'd exchanged numbers the day he bumped into me, of course. I stare at it until my vision blurs. I'm suddenly regretting my little outburst. I know it needed to be said, I know it was the truth, but I let my emotions get the best of me and I can't afford to do that. I don't have much time left here. If he hates me now, then I can't get any closer to him, I can't bring him back.

I flop back onto the bed and sigh. I'm afraid to listen to the message. I know it's just him telling me not to bother coming back, or that I'm a stone cold bitch, or something. I don't know. I take a deep breath and roll over, burying my head into my pillow. I don't want to know. But I have to know. I roll back over. I grab my phone. I press play.

"Hey Sydney, It's Adrian." His voice is surprisingly calm. "Look, I'm just calling to say that I'm sorry. Things got...intense. And I had no right to make any assumptions about your relationship with mystery guy, or whatever, and I know you were just pissed and wanted to get back at me when you..." there's a long pause, "said what you said. It was way out of line, you know, but I get it. Anyway," another long pause. I hear him clearing his throat. "I'd still like to finish what we started, you know, you sitting for me. If you don't want to anymore, that's fine. I understand. It's no skin off my back, but..." his voice takes on a strange, almost affectionate quality. "You left your sweater here and I don't really have any use for it. It's not my even my size. If you want to come by and pick it up tomorrow around noon, I'd appreciate it."

The message ends there. I realize the entire time I was listening to it I haven't been breathing. I lay there for a long time, playing the message over and over, making myself drunk off the sound of his voice. After I come down, I shakily opt to send him a text message rather than calling him back.

_**Thank you for calling me. I'll be there tomorrow to pick it up. **_

After I send it I bring my phone to my lips and press them against it hard. _I'm sorry_, the kiss says, _I love you_.

I have an idea. A bad one. A crazy one. A stupid one. I sit up and dial a number I can only hope still belongs to the person I'm trying to reach. The phone rings and rings. I send a silent prayer up into the atmosphere, if only the universe would take pity on me.

When she answers, my heart back flips. I take a deep breath.

"Ms. Terwilliger?" I say. "This is Sydney Sage. I know it's been a long time, but...I need your help."


	4. Strings

**a/n: I know it's been eons. I'm SORRY. I had a lot of technical difficulties with this chapter. I lost what I had written and had to start from scratch, blah blah blah cool story okay here you go. PS - this isn't the last chapter, just so we're clear before you come to yell at me. **

* * *

"Sydney Sage," the familiar cadence of her voices washes over me in an unexpectedly comforting way. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

"So, you do remember me." I say, feeling awkward.

She chuckles. "It hasn't been _that_ long, Miss Melbourne."

And for some reason, I'm suddenly fighting back tears. I don't know why, it's the stupid old nickname that does me in.

"Yeah, well." I reply with a tight throat, "Forgetfulness seems to be going around lately."

"Should I flatter myself with the notion you're about to tell me where you disappeared to and why? Or shall we get to that after you tell me what you need my help with?"

Her tone is teasing, but the comment stings. "I didn't have a choice," I tell her. "The Alchemists...they found out about..." I stop short, for some reason I'm embarrassed to say it out loud. "how close I'd become with Adrian and the others." I finally settle on saying. "I never would have just left without..." I have to swallow back the lump forming in my throat.

"I had assumed as much," she says. "I was quite worried, you know. So much that I employed a rather questionable character to find and inform me of your whereabouts, for fear you might be in some sort of trouble. Once I knew you'd recommitted yourself to the Alchemists, I could only hope someday you might find your way back."

"I'm so sorry," I say miserably. "I'm sorry I made you worry. And I haven't recommitted myself to the Alchemists."

"Oh?" she's clearly surprised. "That is a rather interesting development."

"I mean, I suppose I have, technically." I sigh. "But I haven't, not really."

"I've never known you to speak so vaguely, Miss Melbourne." Ms. Terwilliger says, a slight note of disapproval in her voice. Then, all at once, she realizes. "Something is very wrong."

And it all just comes pouring out of me. The night they took us. The drug. What they did to Adrian. The deal I made with Stanton. All that time I spent, not even allowed to grieve or show any sign of defiance lest I fall victim to the same fate. Fighting every single day to stay sane. How much I missed him. Her. Everyone. My stupid, stupid plan of coming to New York to find him. Seeing him with Rebecca. How much it hurts. I'm crying like a child and my throat aches from forcing out the words but I can't seem to stop.

"I know you must be so disappointed in me," I croak. "After all you taught me, when I could have used it to save him-me...I didn't. I knew it was a long shot and I would make even more of a mess for myself if I failed but," I sniff loudly. "I should have tried."

"Oh, Sydney." she says softly and I am startled by her use of my first name. "You grew so much in our time together, you'd become so strong. I have no doubt you certainly had the power to do something. And you know, that's what anyone else in your situation would have done. People resort to their impulses, their gut instincts, when in that kind of danger. But, you, Sydney, you thought ahead. You had the good sense to know the odds were stacked against you. And in keeping your powers a secret, you not only found another way to save yourself, but to keep people like me out of trouble as well. I couldn't possibly be more proud of you."

After a very long moment I stutter, "Th-thank you, Ms. Terwilliger." Because I don't know what else to say. I take a deep breath to steady myself.

"Now," she says breezily, "Onto to the issue with Adrian. What do you know about the drug they gave him?"

"Hardly anything." I sigh.

"I see," she says. "Then all we know is that he's been given a drug that wiped away a few months worth of memories. Hmm."

Here it comes. Time to ask the question I'm terrified to know the answer. "Is there anything at all, a spell of some sort... that could...bring him back?"

"Not that I know of," she says and my heart turns to stone.

"There are several spells for remembrance," she continues. "Some witches rely on them when their minds are beginning to dull with old age. But these spells are for small things, like remembering where you left something important, keeping your mind sharp for when performing more complicated spells, that sort of thing." She sighs heavily. "He didn't forget you naturally. His brain was chemically altered in some way. These sort of spells certainly can't have any affect on that."

"Well," I say after a moment, "Thank you for telling me." I'm not altogether surprised. This was a desperate, last resort. A fairytale.

As if she's read my mind, she says, "Have you attempted to jump start his memory in any way? Perhaps by touching him, kissing him?"

I can't help but snort. I expected that kind of advice from Jill, a 16 year old girl. But not from a rational grown woman. "Funny."

Her tone is serious when she replies, "Love is a powerful magic."

"Not powerful enough, it seems." I say dismally. "The Alchemists don't do anything halfway. I know deep down what's done is done and his memories are just...gone, but...I guess I went a little crazy for awhile, letting myself hope."

"Maybe you should just tell him the truth." She suggests. "He deserves to know what's happened to him."

"I thought about that, of course." I reply. "But I really don't think he'd believe me. This whole thing is just hopeless. I don't know what I was thinking. I thought he'd see me again and he'd just remember. I actually thought that. That our connection to each other was so strong...I thought it would be like...like..."

"Like magic?" she supplies and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm an idiot," I mumble, covering my face with my free hand.

"Hardly," Ms. Terwilliger scoffs. "I don't like the sound of you giving up. I told you the remembrance spells were non applicable but it wouldn't hurt to try. Hell, you're the strongest, most intelligent young witch I've come across in years. Make up your own spell. It just might be crazy enough to work."

Her words run soothingly over the cracks inside me and I smile, in spite of everything. "I appreciate the enthusiam and I'm flattered by your faith in me, but, I just don't think I can do this anymore. I can't hurt myself like this. I've seen that he's...okay. And...relatively happy, sort of. I think I just need to go home."

"This isn't you, Sydney." she says adamantly. And it's the second time her words have echoed Jill's. "Give me a little time to think on it. I'll ask around, see if there's anything else you can do. In the meantime, just keep a close eye on him."

"Time is something I don't have," I tell her. "if I'm not back the minute Stanton expects me, I won't be able to call and ask for help again a year from now, because I won't know who you are."

"That won't happen," her voice is fierce and protective. "Get some rest. I'll call you as soon as possible tomorrow to let you know what I've found."

"What if you haven't found anything?"

"Then," she says, "We'll just have to get creative."

* * *

I don't sleep, not really. I don't really try, either. Sleep means dreams. Nightmares. At the mercy of my unstable subconscious. Just another thing I can't control.

Ms. T calls me around six AM, but upon hearing I haven't slept, orders me to bed before she'll tell me anything else. I tell her I need to know if she's found anything, that my sanity depends on it, she hangs up on me.

I eventually force myself into an excrutiatingly long two and a half hours of what I suppose you could technically refer to as sleep. I think I feel worse upon waking. But when I call Ms. T back she takes pity on me.

"I didn't find anything we didn't already know," she tells me excitedly, and I'm too numb-tired to react, "But I did remember something-I can't believe I didn't think of it before."

"What?"

"There is a spell for cleansing," she says. "It is used on witches who've gone a bit power hungry, started to use their magic in a dark, unnatural way. In a sense, these witches have forgotten who they are, the spell is meant to clear out all the negative energy and thoughts built up inside them. It's not the same thing as what's happened to Adrian, but it just might be-"

"Crazy enough to work," I finish dryly. It seems ridiculous to me. But, this is it. My last shot. I sigh heavily, rubbing my eyes. "Okay." I say. "What do I have to do?"

"It's going to take a lot of energy," she tells me. "You'll have to eat something. And you're terribly out of practice. But no worry, I'm confident you'll be able to pull it off."

"Where am I going to get the ingredients for the spell?" I ask, doubt threatening to consume me again. "I don't have that much time until I'm supposed to meet Adrian today."

"Today?" she asks. "Oh no, that won't do. This is a spell that wil have to sit overnight. You'll have to call him and postpone the meeting."

"I can't do that," I tell her. "Things are already weird between us. If I bail on him today, he'll just think I'm being rude. Then he might not want to see me again."

"Oh, nonsense." she scoffs. "Just tell him something vastly important has come up and you're terribly sorry but you'd be happy to meet with him tomorrow. It gives you an air of mystery. Men love that sort of thing."

I blink a few times, unable to conjur up any sort of response.

"Fine." I say after a moment. "Give me a second to get a pen and paper and you can tell me what I need to gather for the spell."

"Oh, no need for that," she tells me airily. "This spell only requires one ingredient. An herb."

That's odd. Especially since it's such a potent spell. "Um. Alright. Well what herb, then?"

She gives a soft laugh, though her answer is far from amusing. "Sage."

"I..." I start to say, then just sigh. "_Seriously_?"

"I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried," she laughs again. "After you spell the sage, he'll have to ingest it."

"How on earth am I supposed to get him to do that?" I exclaim.

"Slip it in his drink," she answers, "bake it into a pastry. Really, Sydney, you act as if you've never drugged a man before."

I rub my now aching temples with my fingers. "This just went from might be crazy enough to actually insane."

"Perhaps, a little." she agrees. "But a little crazy never hurt anyone."

"Ms. Terwilliger," I sigh heavily, "I don't-"

"Now we don't have time to play around," she goes on as if I haven't spoken. "I'm sure there's a witch somewhere close by. I'll locate one and we'll get some dried sage from her. I'm afraid you'll have to hand rub it yourself, that's when you start to work the spell into it."

"Naturally," I reply dryly.

"Alright." she says with a decisive sigh, "I'll call you back when I've procured the sage for you."

"Wait," I say suddenly, a rogue, ancient thought comes springing to the front of my mind. "I..um..I just remembered. What ever happened to Ho-" I correct myself, "the callistana." I haven't thought about him in such a very long time. Though he was thrust into my hands as a nothing but a nuisance, he had soon become an essential part of my life in Palm Springs. And Adrian's. Our little dragon love child, we used to call him. Another unwelcome behest of emotion swells in my chest at the memories.

This time the silence between us stretches longer than reasonably comfortable. When she speaks again her voice holds a sad, consoling tone. "Ah. Well. Terribly unfortunate, though I know it couldn't have been helped, on your part. After I'd realized you were really gone, I took it upon myself to find it and make sure it continued to be fed. But like I told you long ago, the callistana needed you and Adrian to bond with it to stay healthy and strong. It stayed relatively active for a decent amount of time after you left. If I didn't know better I'd say it was almost as if it was waiting for one of you to show up. I must say, I think I was more or less doing the same thing. But then, after a week or so, it just sort of curled up into a ball and wouldn't move for anything, wouldn't take any food..." she pauses and a tender part of my heart I didn't even know existed is breaking. "So I decided to put the poor little thing out of its misery. Sent it back to where it came from."

"I see," I reply unsteadily. I bite back the tears as to avoid another embarrassing emotional breakdown with Ms. Terwilliger. "I'm sorry to hear that. Call me when you've got the sage. I've got to call Adrian and think of a reason why I can't see him today." And I hang up before she can respond.

I sit on the edge of my hotel bed, shoulders slumped. I try to picture Hopper in my mind, but the mental image is distorted and probably more my brain straining to construct him with false fabrication than reality. He was a smart little guy, we had found that out fairly quickly. Of course he'd notice us being gone, Adrian and me, but I didn't ever think of the negative effects it would have on him. In my time away, the only thing on my mind was keeping myself safe from getting my own memories wiped, and finding a way to get back to Adrian. I'd be lying if I said Hopper had been on my mind. He hadn't, really. And now I feel a little sick about it. The thought of him scampering around his aquarium, confused as to where the people he'd come to know as his parents had gone, and when they were coming back. And then, realizing slowly that we weren't coming back at all. And that realization causing him to shut down. It's not so different from how I feel right now. Like shutting down. Like closing my eyes with the hope they just don't ever have to open again. But I can't do that. Even though this plan is crazy and fruitless, I still have to go through with it. Because, I just have to. For Adrian, for myself, and I guess in a small, weird way, for Hopper too. His "death" won't exactly be in vain if I can help bring Adrian back to himself. At least, that's what I tell myself, and it gives me the strength to keep going.

* * *

"Hey," the sight of Adrian immediately spins me into anxiety. I don't know why I ever thought this was something I could do. "Glad you could make it."

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I tell him with a forced smile. The story I fed him over the phone was that I'd gotten an emergency call from work and needed to deal with it. He asked me what sort of work would call me when I was supposed to be on vacation. I'd forgotten I hadn't been honest about the Alchemy thing. I sputtered my way through something ridiculous and illogical, I'm sure. I don't really remember what I said. I had no experience lying to Adrian, ever, and I wasn't very good at it. I don't think he believed me, but I could only hope he thought perhaps I was stalling seeing him in person again as to avoid any residual awkwardness from our last encounter, and not that I was up to any arcane activities that involved him directly. It's so strange. Adrian had always been my partner in crime when it came to this sort of thing, now we find ourselves on opposite ends, and I hate the way that feels.

"It's not problem, shit happens." His smile is a little forced too. I'm drawn to the heavy shadows weighing down his eyes and I suddenly wish I had the power of healing at my fingertips so that I could press my thumbs to his face and wipe them away. He invites me in and leads me to the couch and we sit for a moment in silence. His posture is angled and tense. Aside from his sunken eyes, he doesn't look like he's in pain, but I can tell that he is. I can see him trying so hard to hold himself together, and I wish he knew he didn't have to do that, that he could break into a thousand tiny pieces and I'd spend all day picking them up for him, but since I can't tell him that, I don't say anything at all.

He takes the bait right on cue and gestures to the thermos in my lap. "What's that?"

And here we go.

"Oh," I say as if I had forgotten all about it. "I actually brought this for you."

"For me?" His eyes open wide and flash with surprise. A ghost of a smile plays at his lips. "What is it?"

"It's um, it's just some herbal tea. I made it myself." I extend my hand toward him and as he takes it from me our fingers brush and I try to ignore the warm electricity that sparks at the touch and I wonder if he's ignoring it too, or if he even feels it at all.

"You mentioned feeling unwell," I tell him carefully, "since you stopped taking your medication, I thought something nice and natural might do you some good. It can be very calming."

He stares at me for a moment, dumbfounded. Then his lips melt into a staggering smile. "That's really thoughtful of you," he says. "Thanks, Syd."

I choose not to react to that.

He takes a swig of the tea and I'm holding my breath and he squints his eyes and coughs slightly. "Ah." he winces, but follows up with another smile. "Minty."

"That's the sage," I tell him with a nod. I can't help it, the thought of performing magic on Adrian without his permission feels weird. I know if my Adrian were here and could see what were happening, he'd tell me I was being ridiculous. He'd want me to do whatever it took to bring him back, but that's not the case. At least telling him what's in the drink soothes my conscious a little bit. "It's said to be good for...clearing the mind."

He laughs. "Well, damn. I'd better drink up then, my mind's a god damn mess." And he takes another long swig of the tea. I'm certain my heart is pounding audibly. It's echoing in my ears.

"Sage," he says and I startle at the sound of it on his lips, but he's looking at the thermos. Then his eyes flick to me. "Isn't that your last name?"

I smile softly. "It is."

"Interesting," he muses, taking another sip.

"Well," I say, "They were all out of Ivashkov."

He snorts at that, then downs the rest of the tea and sets the thermos aside and rubs his hands together. "Well, let's get started, shall we?"

And nothing happens. And nothing happens. And _nothing happens_.

He sketches me and I sit there and the minutes tick by and minutes turn into an hour and more minutes and he keeps telling me to relax and I can't relax and nothing else is happening and I don't know why I'm getting so upset when I knew this whole idea was stupid to begin with and I was an idiot to think-

"Sydney?" His voice brings my attention to him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I lie. "Why?"

"You know I love that crazy-expressive face of yours," he says with a smirk. "But right now you just look...upset."

"Well I'm not." My voice comes out clipped and he cocks his head to the side slightly, clearly confused.

"You want to take a break?"

"It doesn't matter to me," I say tonelessly. He scrunches up his face, his confusion increasing.

"I'm sorry," I tell him honestly, trying to break free of my sour mood. None of this is his fault and taking it out on him is only going to push him farther away from me. "I'm just-I guess I do just need a break."

His smile returns. "Maybe you're the one who could use a little sage, Sage."

My heart stutters at the sound. I bark out a short laugh, shake my head slightly, and look away.

I feel the weight of him as he places himself beside me on the couch.

"You sure you're alright?" He nudges my shoulder with his and I just really wish he wouldn't touch me ever again but at the same time it's taking everything I have left in me not to turn to him and collapse into his arms.

I continue to stare out the window of his apartment. The apartment he shares with his beautiful girlfriend. The apartment that doesn't remind me of him at all. Maybe my Adrian is dead. The thought settles over me with an eerie calm. Maybe this man sitting next to me on the couch really is a stranger and always will be. Maybe it's time for me to accept that.

"At the risk of unleashing your fury again," he says slowly, "does this have anything to do with um..." he clears his throat. "your guy?"

"Maybe." I finally answer. I still don't look at him.

"You can talk to me about it, if you want." he says. "I promise I won't give you any more unsolicited advice. I'll just listen."

"It's a little embarrassing," I lean back against his couch and close my eyes.

"You don't have to be embarrassed around me, of all people." I wonder if he knows his words are mirroring mine or not.

"I did something stupid."

"I've done a lot of stupid things," Adrian replies gently. "I'm sure what ever you did isn't nearly as stupid as the least stupid thing I've done."

"I tried," I say wearily. Maybe this Adrian isn't my Adrian, but he's still _Adrian_. And I just need him to comfort me, as tragically ironic as this entire situation may be.

"Tried what?"

How can I put it in vague terms? "I tried to get him to come back to me." I finally decide on.

"Oh." his tone is stunted, like he doesn't know what else to say. After a moment he adds, "Is that what you were really doing yesterday?"

I nod slowly, eyes still closed.

"I see," he says, and I feel his weight shift slightly but I can't tell if he's moved closer to me or farther away. "I'm guessing it didn't go well."

I shake my head slowly, eyes still closed.

"Can I ask what happened, exactly?" his voice is soft, almost caressing.

I open my eyes, finally, and turn my head to look at him. "Nothing happened."

He holds my gaze for a moment, then nods as if he understands. He doesn't, of course. But that hardly makes a difference.

"You know," he says, leaning his head back on the couch, his face turned toward mine. "I did tell you that guy was a loser."

"He's not a loser," I say. "He's just...not mine anymore."

"That makes him a loser by default," Adrian smiles, and my brain switches places with my heart. I reach out and grab his hand, not knowing how he'll react. Not thinking. Not caring. Not in this moment. His face twitches in surprise but he doesn't pull his hand away. He squeezes mine softly. The warmth of his touch travels up my arms and spreads throughout my chest. He looks at me, and I look back until I can see myself reflected in his eyes. I inhale shakily. As far as I'm concerned, I have nothing left to lose. I have a decent amount of time left here, I suppose, but I'm not thinking about that.

I am thinking about what Ms. Terwilliger said.

About how love is a powerful magic.

He hasn't let go of my hand. And his face is so close to mine. His eyes are still locked on mine, and he says, "Sydney-" and then I lean forward and kiss him.

Adrian may not remember me, but his mouth certainly does. He reacts to the kiss immediately, his mouth melding to mine exactly as it should have been doing all this time. Of all the things I forbade myself to forget about him, his kiss was the one thing I clung to the most desperately. However, I see my memory has done it absolutely no justice. His mouth is so warm as it moves against mine, so perfect, fitting us together like puzzle pieces. Fiery trails of pleasure course through my body and I lean in a little more, pressing my mouth against his more firmly, capturing his bottom lip and tugging on it gently with my teeth because I know that drives him crazy and he groans in response and leans in to meet my intensity and for one perfect moment we're kissing, hard, and the world somersaults right into place.

And then that moment ends.

He pushes me away roughly, practically leaping off the couch. He stares at me, panting, then turns away.

I try to steady my breath. "I'm sorry," I say. Not because I kissed him. But it doesn't matter.

He turns around, his hand pressed up against his lips, it's shaking. He wipes it across them, as if to erase my touch. He looks at me, eyes alive and wild. "Why did you do that?"

"Adrian," I stand up and walk toward him. He stumbles backwards, like he's afraid of me. My voice breaks around the word, "Please."

"Please _what_?" he exclaims, still staring at me like I've grown another head.

"It's _me_." I reach up and take his face in my hands. My voice is pleading and my eyes are wet. "Your Sage. Your _flame in the dark_. Please. Just. Remember."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, grabbing my wrists tightly and jerking my hands away from him. "Sydney...I...I'm sorry. I know you're upset and you're going through a hard time right now, but...I think maybe you should leave now."

"You kissed me back, you know." This is it. This is all I have left.

He shakes his head. "I wasn't thinking-I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. But I'm...I'm not-Please, just go."

So much for powerful magic.

I stare up at him, his face blurry through my tears. I blink and let them fall. I let my hands fall slack at my sides. He looks at me with such a detached pity that it almost makes me sick. "I'm sorry," he says again.

I can't take anymore of this. I leave without another word. The door clicks as I close it behind me. The end.

* * *

The first thing I do when I get back to my hotel is pack. There's no need for me to be here anymore. The things about New York I found charming and romantic when I first arrived are now distasteful and sickening. Once finished, I realize I never got my sweater back from Adrian. A loud, painful sound comes out of my mouth that I think is supposed to be a laugh. I highly doubt he'll be calling me again to come get it.

The next thing I do is call Ms. Terwilliger. I tell her what happened, leaving out some of the more humiliating details, and she urges me to use the time I have left in New York as a distraction to the Alchemists while I travel to her. She says she'll find a way to protect me from them. I tell her I appreciate the offer, but I need to think about it. I don't know if that's what I want to do. The only thing I want to do is curl up into bed and cry. So, I do. For awhile.

I let myself cry because I love him and he doesn't love me and I'll never get him back and that was probably the last time I'll ever see him and he'll just always think of me as that crazy girl who kissed him and I've never been so sad in my entire life and I'm allowed to cry about it. Tomorrow, I'll wake up and force myself to be a strong indepedent woman, but today I'm going to cry.

I eventually get up, type out an email to Stanton to tell her I'll be returning home ahead of schedule. I can already picture her face when she'll open it. Smug and satisfied. Maybe I'll even let her wipe my memories, after all. Then she'd really be the winner. And I wouldn't have to feel this unbearable, unrelenting pain.

I stare at the monitor until my reflection appears before me. Face swollen and red from crying. And I'm disgusted with myself. _You are not the type of girl who falls apart over a __**boy**_, I tell myself angrily. _Get a God damn grip. _

I click the Discard button and the email I just typed up disappears. I wipe at the unsightly mascara trails underneath my eyes and take a deep breath.

There's just one more thing I have to know. I myself can't know what was going through Adrian's mind when we kissed, but I know someone who can. I call Jill.

"Did you feel anything today?" I ask as soon as she answers.

"Huh?"

"You know, through the bond." I clarify. "Anything at all."

"Uhhhh, oh!" she says. "Well...hmm.I don't really think so. I mean...I don't know. Not that I noticed, not really. Why? Did something happen?"

"No," I lie. "I just wondered. I'll talk to you soon, Jill."

"Wait!" she says. "What's going on? You haven't updated me. Have you seen Adrian again? How is he doing? Is he more like himself?"

"He's..." I trail off. I consider lying to her, telling her things are going well and everything will be okay, I'm just sure of it. But she cares for Adrian too much and I care for her too much, to do that. "He's gone, Jill."

"Are you sure?" the sadness in her voice would break me apart if I wasn't already in pieces.

"I'm sure." I tell her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried."

"I'm not going to give up," she says adamantly. "I understand how hard this is for you, Sydney. I know it's even more difficult with the Alchemists breathing down your neck. But I can't give up on him, and I won't. So just...do what you have to do. And leave Adrian to me. I'll..." she pauses. "I'll hit him across the head with a cement block if I have to."

"That's about the only thing there is left to do," I almost laugh. "I'm really tired, though. Today was...exhausting."

"Okay," she says uncertainly. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"Very sure."

"Get some rest," she orders me. "Maybe things will seem a little brighter in the morning."

"Maybe," I agree, just to appease her. "I'll talk to you later. Take care of yourself."

"Same to you," she says. After we hang up, I shower and change for bed. I'm ready to sleep for at least 10 hours. Or 10 days.

* * *

A piercing sound jars me awake. I jerk up in surprise and glance at the clock on the nightstand. A little past 2 in the morning. After a few moments I realize it's my phone that's making the noise. I grab for it and see a number I don't recognize flashing across the screen. I answer it and put the phone up to my ear.

"Hello?" I ask groggily.

"Ummmm hi," an unfamiliar voice says. "Is this Sydney Sage?"

"Yes, this is she."

"Oh. Thank God," the voice sighs. "Um. Yeah. This is is Rebecca. Adrian's girlfriend. We met a couple days ago."

Oh God. Is this seriously happening? Is she calling me to tell me that she wants to beat me up for kissing her boyfriend or something? This is literally, quite literally, the last thing on Earth I am able to deal with right now.

"Listen," I tell her. "I'm-"

"I'm sorry!" her voice squeaks. "I know it's super late and you must have been sleeping. But it's just...um...I need your help."

"My help?" I ask, completely confused by this turn of events. "With what?"

"It's Adrian," she says and I realize for the first time during our conversation how troubled her voice is. "He's not...he's like, not okay."

"What do you mean?" I ask, though I'm afraid I already know the answer.

"You know he's a Spirit user, right?" And my fears are confirmed.

I throw the covers off myself and immediately spring into action. "What's happening?"

"He's gone totally crazy," she whispers frantically. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, just try your best to calm him down. Get him some water-"

"No, you don't understand." she interrupts. "Like, crazy-crazy. I can't get through to him. He's saying things... I don't know. He's not making any sense. I'm afraid he might hurt himself. Can you, like...I don't know...come over here?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," I say, though it pains me more than anything else that's happened. My heart pounds while my brain tries to come up with a solution. Then, the strangeness of this phone call finally occurs to me. "Wait. I mean, not that I'm not willing to help, but...why did you even call me in the first place?"

"I figured maybe since you used to be an Alchemist you might know of something that could fix it," she says. "And because, well, he keeps saying your name."

* * *

"Where is he?" I ask, once I arrive at the apartment to find Rebecca alone in the living room, clearly distraught.

"In the bedroom," she whispers. "He finally went in there after awhile and I just pushed something up against the door so he couldn't...well, you know."

I stare at her in disbelief. "You...you're _afraid_ of him." The notion of Adrian being dangerous is so ridiculous to me I almost laugh in her face.

"He'd been doing so well," she says, her eyebrows knitting together. "I think he may have stopped taking his medication."

"You are correct in that assumption," I say and her eyes widen.

"What?" she gasps. "How do you know that for sure?"

"Because he told me," I say, trying not to sound smug. "He hated the way it made him feel and how it stifled him. So he quit cold turkey. Apparently not the best decision, as it turns out."

"Why wouldn't he tell me that?" she wonders aloud, her lovely face contorting in anguish.

"Maybe because you're the one who forced him to go on the medication in the first place."

Her eyes go glassy. "Is that what he told you?" She squeaks. "I didn't force him! I was just trying to help him. I wanted him to be happy...my grandfather was a Spirit user. I never knew him, he died before I was born. But my mom told me all these horror stories about bad the Spirit could get, how it ate him up inside until there was nothing left. I didn't want that for Adrian!" She's blubbering now. "I just love him so much."

Here I was, villainizing Rebecca all this time, because of she had been trying to fix Adrian. But...had that not been exactly what I was doing with the spell and the sage? I found it hard to discern a difference between us now, standing in her living room, both selfish and scared and blinded with love for the same man.

I nod slowly. "I understand, I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

She continues to sob, and I'm a little bit pleased to see she's a particularly ugly crier. "I don't know what to do. I've never seen him like this before. I can't, I can't...I can't deal with this!"

"Shhh," I hiss, not wanting her hysterics to rile Adrian, if he can even hear us. He might be too far gone right now to be able to. "Rebecca. You need to stay calm if you're going to be able to get him through this."

"I can't!" she whispers through her tears. "I don't know...I think...I'm having...a panic attack." She takes a few deep, long breaths. I reach out to comfort her, then pull back.

A terrible thought passes through my mind. I swallow and move forward, putting a hand on Rebecca's shoulder. "Rebecca," I say. "I um...I do happen to have a bit of experience dealing with Moroi who are under the influence of Spirit. I could probably bring him out of it myself. I don't want to impose or come across as inappropriate-"

"Seriously?" she practically shrieks. "Oh my God, can you really fix him?" There's that word again. It makes me wince. "Oh, please please please." she takes my hands in hers. "I'd be so grateful. Do you want me to leave?" Her eagerness is palpable. "I could go for a walk or something. Just call me when it's safe to come back." I force myself not to have a visible reaction.

She's almost out the door before I can even reply. "Rebecca!"

She turns abruptly. "Yes?"

"It's...after 2 in the morning." I blink at her. "I don't think it's very safe for you to go for a walk by yourself."

She gives me a wide smile, revealing her fangs. "I'm a vampire," she reminds me. And I nod. Fair point. Then, I stand alone in the living room. I take a moment to collect myself, then make my way further into the apartment, until I find the room with a chair shoved in front of the door. I roll my eyes. Lord have mercy on that girl. I move the chair aside and open the door to find Adrian curled up in the corner, knocking his head against the wall he's huddled in front of repeatedly. I walk over to him calmly and sit beside him. I'm surprised to see he's also drenched in sweat, and his face in scrunched up like he's in physical pain.

I catch the back of his head before he can knock it against the wall again and he jerks toward me, startled.

"Stop that," I command gently. His eyes have that distant, wild look about them that I recognize as Spirit taken hold of him. I sigh heavily. It never gets any easier, seeing him like this.

I place my hands against his forehead to find that he's hot to the touch. I frown. Spirit has never had such a physical effect on him before. I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that he went off his medication so suddenly. Or, I realize with horror, maybe the sage tea has had some sort of adverse effect on him. I feel disgusted with myself, for possibly being the cause of his pain.

"Adrian?" I attempt to get his attention. But he's just staring at me. Blankly. Not seeing. Not responding.

"Come on," I say, grabbing for his hands and trying to pull him up. He stubbornly remains put and I stumble forward, almost falling on top of him.

"I said come on," I say more firmly. And he blinks. I grab his hands again and this time he lets me pull him over to the bed. I feel my muscles strain as I force him into a semi-lying position. I pat his chest affectionately. "I'll be right back." I tell him. "Do not move."

I leave and head to the kitchen. I find a clean dishcloth and run it under cold water. When I come back into the bedroom I find Adrian unmoved, but shirtless.

"Why did you take your shirt off?" I ask him.

His head swings lazily toward me. "It's too hot." His voice is far away and strange.

"I know," I tell him. I've found in the past the best way to deal with him when he's like this is to remain calm. Be gentle, but firm. I hold up the dishcloth. "That's why I got this."

I climb into the bed beside him and kneel, pressing the dishcloth against his forehead. "Better?" I ask. He doesn't respond.

"Adrian." I say, "Talk to me, please."

He squints at me. "Who are you?"

"Sydney," I answer patiently. He doesn't react. I sigh and bring the dishcloth against his face and then down his neck.

"Go away," he whispers, closing his eyes.

"I can't do that."

"I can't do that," he parrots. "Can't do that..."

"_Adrian_." I say, not wanting him to fall any deeper inside himself. "Open your eyes."

"I can't," he croaks. "It hurts."

"What hurts?" I ask.

He rolls over and buries his face into a pillow. He starts to mumble things that I can't make out.

"What hurts, Adrian?" I ask again.

He turns his head slightly, still not opening his eyes. "You."

"You're not making sense," I tell him. I put my hands on his arms and rub up and down, it's something that's helped to calm him down in the past.

"Your aura is too fucking bright," he says angrily. "It's like the fucking sun."

I can't help but laugh. "Well, I can hardly help that, can I?"

He props himself up in such a quick, fluid movement it almost knocks me backwards.

"Who are you?" he asks again.

"Sydney," I reply, swatting his chest with the dishcloth. "I already told you that."

"Syd...ney," he says my name slowly.

"Good job," I say dryly. "Are you feeling better?"

"Better," he spits the word, giving a harsh laugh. He brings his hands up to cover his face. We're both silent for a few moments. Then he lowers his hands and rolls back onto his side, curling up slightly. I lower myself onto the bed next to him, sidling up until our bodies touch. His eyes fly open at the contact.

"I'm really losing it this time," he whispers. He taps the side of his head roughly. "I can feel my mind burning up. There's not going to be anything left. It's burning up." The terror in his voice rips me in half.

"No." I tell him, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. "That's not going to happen."

"It's already happening," he argues. "I can't fight it anymore. It's...too much. It hurts."

"You're stronger than this, Adrian."

"I'm not." He wrenches away from me.

"Yes, you are." I force him to look at me.

"Where's Rebecca?" he whimpers, closing his eyes again.

"She had to leave for a little bit," I run a hand through his hair gently. "She's just worried about you. She wants to feel better."

"She's my girlfriend." he mumbles.

"I know," I continue stroking his hair. "She'll be back soon."

His eyes flutter open and he studies me. "You," he says, squinting. "You...used to be my girlfriend."

I freeze. My breath catches in my throat. "What did you say?"

He shudders and then blinks a few times. The look in his eyes is almost lucid. "I don't know why I said that." He shakes his head and then he's far away again. He groans and rolls away, turning his back to me. I sigh heavily and let him ramble on incoherently for a few minutes. Then, I try again.

"Adrian?" I grab his shoulder and try to turn him toward me. He makes a pitiful noise.

"It hurts," he tells me again.

"I know it hurts," I murmur, rubbing my hands down his bare chest. "I know. I wish there was a magical way I could make it all better. Make it so you never had to hurt again."

He looks up at me and squints again. "Worth it..." he mumbles, his eyes rolling upward slightly.

"What?"

"You..." he breathes, "...looked happy." He mumbles nonsense words. "Your aura...the sun..."

My heart stops again. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, but it suddenly occurs to me, that perhaps Adrian's own Spirit magic could have an effect on what was done to his brain. It seems ridiculous, but I've exhausted every other resource. And he's already in the throes of Spirit...

"Adrian," I say quietly. "Does your head hurt?"

His eyes roll back to me. "Huh?"

"If you head hurts," I tell him slowly. "Maybe you should try to heal it."

"No," he moans loudly, "It doesn't work like that..." and he's mumbling again. I feel idiotic for even thinking that could be possible. He slaps a hand over his chest. "My heart hurts."

"Mine too," I say, pulling him in close to me. I close my eyes and just hold him. He starts to twitch every now and then, his shoulders jerking forward violently. I bring my hands up to stroke his back and arms. "It's okay," I tell him. "You're going to be okay."

"Where's Rebecca?" he asks for the second time.

"I told you, she had to leave for a little bit."

"She's gone?" he looks up at me, his eyes wide and sad.

"Not for long," I promise. I place my hand over his heart. "That's why your heart hurts." I smile softly. "You know how people use the phrase heart strings?" He doesn't respond, but I continue on anyway."Well, when I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me that when you love someone, tiny little invisible strings tie your hearts together. And whenever that person is far away, the strings tug your heart right up against your chest." I laugh. "We used to play this game where I'd run away from her and she's clutch her heart dramatically and say 'Ouch! My heart strings!' And then I'd run back."

He's gone non-responsive again, eyes closed.

I've never told him that story before, I don't know why it came to me just now. I look down at him and smile. "I love you, you know. I'll always love you. No matter what." my throat tightens up, but I just keep talking. "And that's why the darkness can't have you. Because you're _mine_." I lean forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Even though you don't remember me, even though you'll probably never think about me again, you'll always be mine. In here." I point to my own heart. Another stretch of silences passes and I realize his breathing has gone deep and even. I lean down to give him one last, soft kiss. Right on his lips. And then I crawl quietly out of the bed and call Rebecca.

"You're an angel," she tells me, as she gazes in lovingly at Adrian sleeping. "So he's...okay now?"

"He should be when he wakes up." I nod. "He just needs to sleep it off."

She moves forward and gathers me up in an unexpected embrace. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I give her a long, appraising look. "You really love him?" I ask.

She nods vehemently. "More than anything."

"Then you can't freak out like you did if this happens again," I tell her seriously. "He needs you to be there for him. "

She bites her lip, then nods. "I know. I will be. But hopefully it won't happen again."

"Yeah," I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Hopefully."

Albeit a little spacey and...odd. She seems like a genuinely good person. I suppose I can accept that she loves him. And I can almost believe she'll be able to be strong for him when he can't be strong for himself. It doesn't make it any less painful to leave him with her. But somehow, I do it.

When I'm finally back in my hotel bed, drifting off to sleep, my mind wanders unwittingly to the story I told Adrian about my mom and the heart strings. I remember, when I was little, I used to worry that if the person you loved ran too far away from you, would your heart rip right out of your chest?

I smile softly at the memory of my nonsensical child-like logic. Still, better to be safe than sorry. I imagine an invisible pair of scissors cutting right through the strings that connect my heart to Adrian's in one giant _snip_. I meant what I said about loving him, always. I love him enough to let him go.


	5. The Listening

_**A/N: There's been some recent developments. But I swear. I SWEAR. No more than two chapters after this one. YOU CAN HOLD ME TO THIS UNDER FATAL CONSEQUENCES I ACCEPT. There's just too much going on to dump it all into one chapter, so I'm splitting it up a bit.**_

* * *

**R**

I've always been an incredibly heavy sleeper. When I was little my dad used to tease me after I woke up from a particularly long nap and say there had been a tsunami or tornado or something and I had slept through it, which he thought was absolutely hilarious. Even funnier, when I was older and away at school I did actually sleep through a small earthquake once. As soon as I woke up the first thing I wanted to do was call my dad so he could laugh at me, even though at that time he'd been dead for 6 and a half years. It's weird how that seems like such a long time for someone to be dead, but really, it's not.

Anyway, me being such a heavy sleeper and all, I decided to pull an all-nighter. If Adrian woke up in the middle of the night and still wasn't...himself...I'd be no good to him dead asleep. Sydney told me she thought he was okay now, but still, I was worried. I'm a worrier. I made a point to check on him every now and then to make sure he wasn't running a fever or had accidentally rolled over into a position that could suffocate him. That's another thing about me. When I've got too much free time, my paranoia runs wild.

It's why I took up yoga. After my dad died, my paranoia went from annoying attribute to full blown disease. My dad's death had been so shocking, so out of the blue, I was convinced unforeseen tragedy was lurking around every corner. I used to throw wailing, violent tantrums because I didn't want my mom to leave for work in the mornings. I broke down into uncontrollable tears at school because I was afraid a wayward aircraft might crash into the side of it, or the whole building would catch fire, or a gang of hungry Strigoi would burst through the ceiling or something. The counselor at my school suggested it might help my 'overabundance of energy' if I focused it in a positive way, like how some people do yoga, and she handed me a pamphlet about breathing exercises and sent me on my way. I'm pretty sure she was't a very good counselor and her suggestion was a brush off, but ironically enough, I'm also pretty sure she saved my life.

I found out pretty quickly I was kind of a badass at yoga. I think my being an air user may or may have not given me an unfair advantage. It's easy to stay balanced in shaky positions when you can manipulate the air around you, but that's beside the point. Yoga not only gave me a way to focus my energy, but after I became an instructor, it gave me an outlet to help other people, which feels a thousand times better than, like, anything else in the world. I became obsessed with helping people in any way I could after that. Helping others, as it turns out, is a lot easier than helping yourself.

When I first met Adrian, I found him face down outside the studio where I give classes. No joke. Just passed out there on the pavement. I had been pretty certain I was the only Moroi in this area and getting too close to humans was a definite no-no, so I'd been kind of lonely outside of interacting with my students. And now there one of my own kind was just slumped over outside my studio like the weirdest present ever. I stood there in shock for a few seconds, which was all the time it took for me decide I was going to take him home with me. Now, I'm not one to normally pick up dirty, unconscious strangers like puppies...but there was something about him. It wasn't anything tangible, or anything I can really explain, but it was strong enough for me to drag him up by his armpits and haul him into a taxi cab, fretfully explaining to the driver that my 'boyfriend' was prone to fainting and I needed to get him home ASAP to regulate his sugar levels. I could smell the alcohol on him but I wasn't about to tell some random cab driver that, it was none of his business. Whoever this guy was, he was out cold and someone had to think of his privacy. It was weird, but I just felt this crazy need to protect him , even back then. Like I said, there was just something about him. Adrian, being a spirit user, has the ability to see people's auras and even though I can't...in that moment, I swear, I must have been able to see his. Plus, it didn't exactly hurt that he happened to be really, really cute. Even all passed out and smelly. I just knew that he was someone who needed help. (My help, specifically.) Someone that was good. And he was.

He was more than good. I found that out as soon as he came to in my apartment. The first thing he said was, "So, I'm your boyfriend, huh?" It used to be a running joke between us during those first few weeks of him staying with me. When I'd get panicky he'd calm me down by grabbing my hands and saying things like, "Chill out, I'm your boyfriend." And when he slipped into one of his dark moods I'd give him a kiss on the cheek and say, "Cheer up, I'm your girlfriend." And for some reason, it always made us laugh. Trivializing each other's issues with irrelevant condolences that weren't even actually real. I mean, that's pretty funny. Maybe you just had to be there. But anyway, one day it stopped being funny so we stopped laughing about it and started kissing about it instead. That was a very good day.

Today, however, is already bad. Terrible awful no good bad. Purpley blue 5 AM light is peaking in through the windows and I still haven't slept. And for some reason, when I get sleep deprived, I get kind of depressed. I start thinking about weird things, bad things, sad things, scary things, mistakes I've made, things I shouldn't have done and things I'll never get to do, general life sucks sadness, my dad.

Then, I get panicky. I can feel it in my legs. It always starts there. They can't decide if they want to stand up or sit down. If they want to stretch out or curl up. They shake and tingle and annoy me to no end. I want to crawl into bed and snuggle in to Adrian's chest and bury my face in the crook of his neck like it's an oxygen mask. Eventually, I do. Minus the weird face in neck burying urge. I don't want to wake him or disturb him in any way. I just want him to be okay. I need him to be okay.

I watch him until he slowly starts to stir. His eyelids flutter open. He blinks. I give him a soft smile which he doesn't return. I reach out to run a hand through his hair but he flinches away from my touch. The panic rises up to my stomach and knocks my organs around. I pull back.

"How are you feeling?" I ask quietly. In the stark silence of our bedroom, it's still way too loud.

He rolls his body so he's facing the ceiling. He blinks a few more times, then puts his hands over his face.

"Adrian?" I ask, trying to remain calm. I want to let myself panic. I want to cry because I'm tired and worried and thinking too much and because I'm so useless when I'm like this. I want Adrian to hold me and comfort me but I can't want that because he's the one who needs to be held and comforted, I think, and I need to not be selfish right now.

He turns toward me, the look in his eyes is troubled. "What..." his voices scratches, "happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" I ask, frowning.

He shakes his head, clearly confused. "Did I black out?"

"Kind of," I say, though I'm not entirely sure myself. "You weren't feeling well." I pause. "Spirit was bothering you."

His eyes widen briefly as he takes in what I've said. Then he looks a little embarrassed. Guilty, even. "Ah," he sighs heavily. "Shit."

"It's okay," I say, scooting my body closer to his. "You're okay."

"Am I?" he asks, looking to me wildly. "I don't feel okay."

I reach out and pull him into me, giving him a light squeeze. "Let me help. Let me make you feel better."

He tenses in my arms but I'm not letting him go. After a moment, he relaxes and his arms wrap around me and for a second there is nothing wrong in the entire world.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," he whispers.

I know I should have something really encouraging and motivational to say. But I'm no good with words. I can twist my body into a thousand different sonnets, but my tongue can't take a single step without tripping over my teeth.

"Me too," I whisper back.

He pulls back from me and gives me a questioning look. I don't know what else to say, so I lean forward to kiss him. He kisses me back lazily and the taste of him electrocutes my mouth like sour candy. Too soon, he's pulling away from me again. His eyes go far away and I'm scared he'll relapse back into spirit but I just don't know how to help. I feel like I should. I know I should. Sydney told me I need to know how to handle this, but I don't. I don't even know how to handle myself half the time.

"I should get up," he murmurs, rubbing my back softly. And oh, I don't want him to stop. His touch is the ultimate calming drug that seeps directly into my bloodstream. But as soon as he lets go I'm left cold and tweaking for more.

I make a small noise of disapproval and he finally smiles. He leans in to kiss me on the forehead and before I can latch on to him he's already rolling out of bed. "I feel like I've been asleep for a year." He chuckles, lifting his arms up and stretching. I like to watch the way his muscles move. I wish he'd come back to bed and move them in my direction, repeatedly, for an undisclosed amount of time, but I can tell he wants space right now. So, I give it to him.

"You look tired," he says from the doorway. "Couldn't sleep?"

I shake my head. "Wouldn't. I was too worried about you."

He frowns. "Was I really that bad?"

"It was the worst I've ever seen you," I reveal, prickling at the memory of him...like that. It was almost too much for me. Sydney seemed so unaffected by it when she was here. Rolled up her sleeves and sighed like it was just another manic Monday. But then again, it was different for her. She hardly knew Adrian. She didn't love him like I did.

"I'm sorry, Bec." Adrian mistakes my own darkness for upset at his. "I hate that you had to see me like that."

I hate that I had to see him like that. It was a startlingly real reminder that our relationship is not as perfect as I sometimes like to pretend. Sydney said I had to be strong for him, but I am only barely holding on to myself, how am I supposed to hold on to Adrian, too? One of us has to be stable or we're both going to fall apart. For a brief moment, I think maybe I should be the one to let go. Sit back and watch to see which one of us tips first. But only for a very brief moment.

"It's okay," I tell him, even though it really isn't. "I just want you to feel better."

He grimaces. "I still feel a little weird, to be honest." And I wish he hadn't been honest.

I get up reluctantly and meet him in the doorway. "What can I do?" I finally ask. "I want so badly to be able to help but I just...I don't know what I can do." I lean into him, pressing my face into his bare chest. "Tell me."

"Becca," he murmurs and I love the way his voice makes my name sound like something velvety to the touch. "You don't have to do anything. This is my problem."

I look up. "If it's your problem, it's my problem too."

He sighs and looks, surprisingly, a little upset. "Why are you obsessing over this all of a sudden?"

I pull away from him and frown. "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head, looks away. "Sometimes I just feel like I'm another one of your little projects. Like you always need to fix me. Like you can't stand that I might not be fixable or that maybe, I don't even want to be fixed."

"Adrian," I gasp, shocked. "How can you say that? How...how can you even think that? You may not remember last night, but I do. I was terrified. You were...you weren't even...nevermind." Me fumbling over my words. Big surprise. "I'm just worried about you. I love you. If this is about the medication thing, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted...I thought we made that decision together."

He stiffens. "What do you mean, the medication thing?"

I bite my lip, unsure of how to continue this conversation. I want to just say nevermind nevermind forget I said anything and curl up into a ball for at least 3 days but it's already too late to do that, I think.

"I know you've stopped taking it," I say. "And I understand why. I just don't understand why you lied to me about it. Me," my voice raises in pitch, "of all people! Like I wouldn't understand where you're coming from."

"That's just it," he says quietly. "You don't. You don't understand. You may be able to pack away your problems into little boxes with simple solutions but I think my issues stem a little bit deeper than what a few deep breathing exercises can keep at bay."

His words scissor through me and I just gape at him, cut open and dumbfounded.

He stalks out into the hallway and I stare after him, not knowing what I should do. I'm angry at what he said. And confused. Where did that even come from? Is it the spirit darkness that's making him act out like this? Or is it something else he's not telling me? I feel like I should probably leave him alone, I mean, he's obviously mad. But then I just get mad all over again. Because all I'm trying to do is help him, love him. He's got no reason to be angry with me.

I march myself into the living room to see Adrian sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. His slender body looks so broken, all hunched over like that. It makes me hurt inside.

I realize that aside from my angry marching, I don't really have a game plan. I hang back and watch him for a few moments before clearing my throat. His head snaps up in a way that makes me wince and he looks at me through glassy eyes.

"I'm sorry," his voice cracks. "I..." He shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. "Fuck."

Silently, I walk over and place myself down next to him. His head falls over onto my shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says again.

"What are you apologizing for?" I find myself asking.

He looks up at me, opening his mouth to speak, but I keep going. "Because as far as what happened last night, you've got nothing to be sorry about. So if that's what you're apologizing for, don't bother. But if you're referring to what just happened a minute ago, go ahead and make it a good one."

He half smiles for half a second and then his hands reach up to cup my face. "I'm sorry I'm such a whiny asshole who doesn't deserve such a beautiful, awesome girlfriend." He leans in close to me and I tumble into outer space. "How's that?"

"I guess it will have to do," I say, refusing to smile. Not yet. At the risk of restarting the fight, I say, "I just don't understand why you're mad at me. I...I don't think I did anything wrong." I mentally pat myself on the back for remembering to approach confrontation with the use of I messages.

He moves his hands to grip my waist and pull me into his lap. "You didn't do anything wrong, Becca." I love it when he talks right up against my skin. His lips hover over mine, almost touching. "_I_ did. I told you, I'm still not really feeling...right, I guess. I just...I'm so sorry."

The heat of his breath melts my mouth into a smile. And like all fights worth having, this one ends with a kiss. And then another. And another. Until we're kiss_ing_. His mouth is strong and urgent against mine. I hook my arms around his neck and return his intensity tenfold. Then his kiss turns rough and sloppy, but I don't care. It's the closeness of his body against mine that sets my skin on fire, the rush of his fingertips trailing up my back to thread into my hair that sends me over the edge. I realize suddenly we haven't had sex on the couch in awhile and I'm definitely down for a revisit. I untangle my arms from around him and reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. Adrian groans and dips to kiss my bare collarbone. I grab his face and tilt it up to meet mine.

"You're not a project, or a thing that needs to be fixed," I whisper. I lean down to kiss his perfect, perfect mouth. "Cheer up, I'm your girlfriend."

He smiles against my lips and I am pleased. The sweet, soft kiss that follows says more than words ever could and my fingers trail from his face down his neck to his shoulders and around his back, twisting my arms around him like vines.

His lips find my neck and I tilt my head back to give him room to kiss me there. I've never been overly fond of neck kisses. They tickle too much and kill the mood. But Adrian's mouth anywhere on my body is acceptable right now, and he likes it, so I let him. I wish he'd get bored and kiss a little lower, and then even lower than that. I think I'm about to get my wish when I feel his fingers tug at the clasp on my bra but then he stops abruptly, the band of my bra snapping back against my back painfully.

"Ouch," I roll my head forward to look at him. He's staring directly over my shoulder, wide-eyed.

"What's wrong?" I pant, twisting myself around to look in the same direction.

"_That_," he says with a strange bitterness to his voice. He gently removes me from his lap and gets up to walk to his easel in front of the window. Draped over it is a small mustard yellow cardigan. He picks it up, makes a face, then slaps it back down.

I cock my head to the side, confused. "Isn't that Sydney's?" I offer, wondering if he's somehow upset as to why a random cardigan has appeared in our apartment. "She must have left it here."

He scoffs and shakes his head. Then, his eyes go unfocused and his brow creases in dismay. He brings a hand up over his eyes and sighs. "Jesus."

"What is it?" I ask, my confusion multiplying. "Adrian?"

He looks toward me with heavy eyes. "Rebecca..." he says, slowly, deliberately. "I have to tell you something."

I readjust my bra and sigh. Looks like my dreams of couch sex are now deferred. "Okay," I say. "So, tell me."

He's suddenly very agitated, pacing back and forth and scrunching up his face in discomfort. Finally he comes to a halt and stares out the window. "When Sydney was here yesterday, she was really upset."

"Wait," I ask. "Which time?"

He spins around to face me. "What?"

"Oh," I shake my head, he doesn't remember. "She came back last night when you...weren't yourself."

"Why did she come back?" Adrian asks tightly.

"I asked her to."

His jaw actually drops a little. "Why the hell did you do that?"

I'm more confused than ever. "She's your friend, I thought she might be able to help. Plus, in your incoherent rambling you said her name a few times. I took that as a clue that she might know what to do. And I was right," I add proudly. "She totally got you to calm down. She must be a Moroi whisperer or something." I smile at the joke.

Adrian does not smile. "Why...don't I remember any of this?" He finally asks.

I shrug. "You were pretty out of it."

He shakes his head. "What did she do? To get me to calm down, I mean."

"Oh," I bite my lip. "I uh, I don't really know. I wasn't here."

Now it's Adrian's turn to look puzzled. "What do you mean? Where were you?"

"I was so scared, Adrian." I tell him, flashes of last night Pre-Sydney's arrival coming back to me. "I didn't know what to do and I was panicking. By the time Sydney got here I was hanging on by a thread. I just had to walk it off. And when I came back, you were asleep. Sydney said she just got you into bed and talked to you for awhile and eventually you calmed down and passed out."

"And you just believed her?" Adrian asks incredulously.

"Um," I raise an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you don't even know this girl," Adrian frowns at me.

"Well, no, not really." I huff. "But so? You do."

He pauses, his face relaxing back into a neutral expression. Then, he sighs again. "Well, I was referring to the first time she was over here. Before any of that happened. She was pretty worked up, something to do with some guy...I don't know. But she was having a rough time, I could see that, so I tried to get her to talk to me about it." His mouth twitches. "Things got a little emotional and she...well..." he coughs. "She kissed me."

"Oh, no." I frown, bringing a hand to my heart. "The poor thing."

Adrian just stares at me. "That's...a weird reaction to me telling you I kissed another girl."

I scoff at him. "This is different. It's not like you wanted to." His mouth twitches again. "What happened after that?"

"She got really, really upset." Adrian says, and he's back to pacing. "She was saying...I don't even know. Weird stuff. And then she left."

"Aw," My frown deepens. "She was probably so embarrassed." Empathy surges through my chest. I am reminded of my first big heartbreak. I was forced to deal with this overwhelming, crippling sadness that I'd never before experienced. During my grieving period, I think I went through a dozen boys in one month's time. For whatever reason, people seem to think the only way to get over the person you want to be kissing is to color over them with new mouths, new kisses. But the paint always cracks and peels away and you're left with the same relentless, hollow feeling.

And just like that, it's like a siren goes off inside me. The same one that went off the day I met Adrian. Someone needs help. (My help, specifically.) I practically jump off the couch, eagerly locating my shirt and pulling it on.

"I should go talk to her," I say, clapping my hands together.

"What?" Adrian's eyes go wide. "No."

"Yes!" I counter. "I have to thank her for last night, really. And she needs her cardigan back, I'm sure. Then we can get to talking and I'll bring up something personal which will make her want to-"

"Rebecca," Adrian walks to me, placing his hand on my shoulders. "You don't have to do that. In fact, you shouldn't do that. It's...none of our business."

I pout. He does have a point. I don't want to pry or make her upset or anything, I just want to help. "I just...I feel so bad," I sigh. "She seems like such a sweet girl. And I don't know what I would have done without her last night. I have to do something."

Adrian shakes his head and leans in to kiss me softly. "You're too much," he chuckles. "Look, Sydney's not really...uh...I think she just wants to let the whole thing go. I must say I feel very much the same. But if she calls about the sweater, then I'll let you have at it. How does that sound?"

Good, I guess. But I can't help feeling like something is off. The balance of nature is out of whack. I sigh and glance around the apartment. Maybe I need to move the furniture around and I'll feel better.

"Do you want something to eat?" I ask, wanting something else to focus my energy on. "I feel like cooking."

"Sure," he smiles. "Nothing healthy, though."

I roll my eyes. "I was thinking pancakes."

That earns me an even bigger smile. "I like the way you think."

I feel a bit better as I trot into the kitchen and start gathering ingredients. Menial tasks can be so cathartic. I hum quietly to myself while I work. Just as I'm getting ready to start mixing, I look up to see Adrian standing a few feet away, looking deeply troubled. His skin has gone sickly pale and he looks like he might faint.

"Adrian?" I ask, blinking. "Are you okay?"

His eyes flick to me but his gaze is still far away. He blinks like he's confused. "I think-ahh!" He doubles over unexpectedly, gripping the sides of his head like he's in immense pain. I drop what I'm holding and rush over to him.

"Adrian!" I exclaim, reaching out to touch him. He wrenches away from my touch, still writhing and moaning in what I can only perceive to be agony.

"Adrian, what's happening?" I reach for him again, trying to make sense of what's unfolding in front of my eyes. "Is it spirit? Adrian? What's hurting you?"

Another spasm of whatever is happening shoots through him and he jerks out of my grasp.

"Oh, God, okay. Here." I manage to grab ahold of him long enough to force him into a lying position. He's still clutching at his head, obviously in pain.

"Adrian, listen to me." I say with a surprising amount of calm, "I know it hurts but you have to try to tell me what's wrong. Just take a deep breath and-"

Even more surprising than my emotional stability, Adrian actually takes my advice, sucking in a long, shaky breath. His eyelids flutter closed and for a long, terrifying moment he goes absolutely still.

Then, his eyes fly open. He sits upright, the color returning to his face. He takes a few more steadying breaths. He looks at me, looks around the apartment frantically, then back at me.

"Oh my God," he says, shaking his head. "Oh. my. God."

"What the hell was that?" I try not to shriek, but I probably fail.

"Oh God," he repeats. "Oh, man."

"Here, lie back down." I command, gently pushing him toward the couch. When I'm convinced he's a comfortable, safe position, I start again. "Adrian, what just happened?"

He shakes his head, but doesn't answer me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Still don't know what exactly just happened. Or if it's going to happen again.

"Was that...spirit?" I ask tentatively, smoothing back Adrian's hair in an attempt to comfort him.

I think he shakes his head. "Then what..." I start as Adrian tries to sit up. He winces, sinking back down. Mostly to myself, I mumble, "Maybe I should call Sydney."

At that, Adrian springs forward, practically knocking me over in the process.

"Whoa," I put my hands on his chest to brace both of us. "What-"

"I have to talk to her," he says, his eyes alit with a fierceness I've never seen.

"Who?" I ask, "Sydney?"

"Yes." he clambers off the couch and looks around oddly, almost like he doesn't know where he is.

I shake my head slightly, trying to process the last 5 minutes of my life. "Adrian, what's going on?"

"You were uh, you were right." He smiles strangely at me. Like it hurts him to do so. "I should go talk to her."

"If I was right," I raise an eyebrow, "Shouldn't _I_ be the one going to talk to her?"

He frowns, then shakes his head. "I need to find out what happened to me last night. What she did to help me. And she's only one who knows, right?"

"I guess," I blink, finding his behavior stranger by the minute.

Adrian gives me another weird smile and nods. He looks around again, looks down at himself, then at me. "I need to put clothes on."

"Wait," I sputter, "You're going, right now?"

He answers me by sprinting down the hallway to the bedroom and emerging a few moments later in a fresh pair of jeans and a rumpled button down shirt.

"I told you," he pants, "I have to figure out what happened to me-"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Last night, or just now?"

"Uh, both." he says, making a face. "Actually, well, yeah. Both." He gives me a decisive nod.

I stare at him, still not understanding what's gotten into him or what it has to do with Sydney. But if he thinks talking to her will help, then I'm all for it. I guess. "You really have to go right this second?" I pout. "I was just about to cook."

He gives me a rueful smile. "I won't be gone long. Cook slowly. I just need to talk to her, that's all." He seems to be saying the second part more to himself than to me.

"An hour, tops," he adds when I don't respond.

Finally, I just shrug. "Okay."

And he's darting toward the door like his life depends on it.

"Adrian!" I call after him.

He turns back quickly, his eyes anxious and wild. "Yeah?"

I shake my head, grabbing Sydney's cardigan and walking over to hand it to him. "Forgetting something?"

He takes it from my hands almost ceremoniously, his expression softening. He looks up at me. "Thank you," he says. And it's weird how he says it. Like he's thanking me for something way more important than handing him an article of clothing.

"Be careful," I say. "I mean, what if you have another...episode...on the subway or something? Maybe you shouldn't go anywhere for awhile."

He leans in to give me a top of the head kiss. It is my least favorite kind of kiss. It is the kind of kiss I think should be reserved for pets and small children.

"I'll be fine," he assures me. "Don't worry."

"I always worry."

"An hour," he repeats. "Promise."

And then he's gone.

* * *

** S**

The good news is, I've decided not to crawl into a hole and die. The bad news is, that means I have to keep on living.

I was planning on cutting my trip short, but after brief reconsideration, I realized no good would come of that. Stanton would be suspicious, more so than she already was, and after everything...my memories of Adrian are all I have left of him. All I'll ever have of him again. I can't lose those. Not after I've lost everything else.

So I put on my big girl heels and a nice, white, preppy looking sun dress and I even take it upon myself to brush the tangles from my hair and put on some makeup. I don't know why, really. I just feel like if I don't focus on doing positive things to myself I'll start doing something else.

I never did get to see the American Museum of Natural History. After bumping into Adrian I was too crazed to care about anything else but my master plan. I shake my head. I can't believe I've been acting so irrationally. It's embarrassing, really. What did I think was going to happen? As soon as I saw that he was okay and happy and living I should have just left him alone. But I didn't. Couldn't. I don't know. But I should have.

So that's my plan for the day. Let the museum mouth swallow me whole. Check out of this world and into another, if only just for a little while. I need to move on with my life and doing something completely for myself, by myself, seems like a step in the right direction.

I'm feeling pretty good about my proactive attitude when there's a knock at the door. I freeze. I make a quick mental list of all the people who know where I am. None of the possible visitors could be good. One in particular would, in fact, be very bad. The knock sounds again and I snap back to reality. I could pretend I'm not here, sure, but I've never really been one to avoid confrontation. I smooth down my dress and tiptoe to the door, squinting one eye shut to look through the peephole.

Oh. Well. He wasn't even on the list. Standing there, with a shirt that clearly hasn't been ironed, hair wild and mussed from sleep -not product- I can tell the difference. How did he find me? I mean I think I probably told him where I was staying but my room number certainly hadn't come up in conversation. And, more importantly, why is he here? My heart stutters. Today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of my new life. My Adrian-free life. With a resigning sigh, I suppose I'll just have to postpone my new life until tomorrow.

I open the door and when he sees me, for a moment, he just stares. I see now that he's got my rogue sweater slung over his shoulder. That stupid, god awful, atrociously yellow thing. It's caused nothing but trouble since I've been here. I make a mental note to burn it upon returning home.

I tear my fiery gaze of hatred from the sweater to his face. And I am surprised to find that he is smiling. Not even smiling, really, but smirking. Like he knows something I don't. "Hey," he says, a familiar spark of mischief glittering in his eyes. "Remember me?"


	6. Still

**A/N: don't believe anything I say ever. Also, very quickly, I'd like to say thank you to all my wonderful amazing reviewers I don't know why you even read my stories when I am the worst person ever. But I am very grateful. *kisses all of your sweet beautiful faces* And also, fun fact: I slipped a quote from The Fiery Heart into this chapter. I don't usually like to do things like that but the opportunity arose and it was just too perfect not to. You'll know it when you see it. Enjoy.**

* * *

**S**

Do you know what the worst feeling in the world is? I'll tell you. It happens when you're asleep. When you are having a really good dream. And not just any good dream. You're dreaming about something you've lost. You landed the job of your dreams and everyone is applauding around you. You're walking down the beach with your wife and she kisses you over and over. You're playing catch with your dog and the sun just won't seem to set. But then, all of a sudden, reality sneaks up from behind you and plunges a cold, steel knife into your back. And then you remember that you lost that job to someone else over a month ago, your wife hasn't spoken to you in years, your dog is dead. And you realize, so quickly and so painfully, that you are dreaming. And the harder you try to hold on to it, the faster you'll wake up. And then, you wake up. And that is, without a doubt, the worst feeling in the world.

And that must be what I am experiencing now. Adrian standing here, in front of me, smiling. Not just smiling. Knowing. Looking at me and _knowing_. I can feel the burn of the knife in my back. I want to tumble forward and fall into Adrian's arms. Wrap my arms around him and squeeze and squeeze. But I don't want to wake up. So I just stand there, staring at him. Branding his smile, this moment, this fantasy into my memory.

He smile falters and for a moment _he_ looks like the disconsolate dreamer who is about to be hurled back into the waking world.

He takes a tentative step toward me. "Sage," he finally says, and his voice breaks.

And then I break. I don't feel my legs moving but they must be because I'm moving toward him and wrapping my arms so tightly around him just like I wanted to and his arms wind around me without hesitation, without question. And I can smell shaving cream and cologne and Adrian all over him. And I can feel the warmth of his hands on my back, the beat of his heart hard against me. The pressure of his fingertips as he squeezes. And I am not waking up. I close my eyes and I open them and I'm still here. With Adrian. And I can't breathe. But who needs air?

We stand there like that for awhile. Just...hugging. I think I laugh. Because we're hugging. We're just standing here in the doorway, hugging, not saying anything, my stupid sweater long forgotten in a heap on the floor.

He pulls back from me slightly, and cups my face with his hands. He swipes his thumbs under my eyes and I realize only then that I've been crying. His eyes are glassy, red. I realize that he is crying too.

"Don't," I finally manage to speak, pulling back from the embrace and moving my hands to his face so I can wipe away his tears as well.

"We need to talk," his voice is thick with an emotion I can't quite identify. "There's so much I..." He pauses, shutting his eyes tightly. His hands move from my face down to my waist and he pulls me into him again, crushing me tight. He presses his face into my hair, breathing hard. "I just want to hold you for a little bit, if that's okay."

If. That's. Okay.

I press my face against his shirt and breathe him in. Could this actually be real? I am too scared to let myself believe it. There's an awful heaviness in my chest. I thought as soon as I had him back the pain would just disappear. But in a strange way, it's almost worse. The time we've lost. The memories we could have made together. It's been so long. And we can't ever get that back. But does that matter? Does it change anything? I don't know. I don't know.

"Adrian," I rasp out, my voice broken and tired and relieved and happy and miserable all at once. "Adrian."

He pulls away from me suddenly, harshly. It feels like I've had the wind knocked out of me. Adrian advances into the room, pacing back and forth almost wildly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. _Let me do that_, I want to tell him. _Let me make it better_.

"Adrian..." I say again, this time questioningly. I pick my sweater up just to have something to do with my shaking hands. I fold it uselessly and walk forward to set it on the bed. Adrian is still pacing. Finally he stops, looks at me, startlingly furious.

"I feel like I need to break something," He finally growls, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"You're angry," I say, a little confused. "At...me?"

He laughs humorlessly. "No." He looks at me again and his expression softens. "No, not at you." He's back to pacing again. I sit on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," I say quietly.

He stops and looks at me blankly. I'd give anything to know what's going through his head right now. I have no idea how I am so calm. I guess because Adrian clearly isn't, therefore I need to be. I pat the spot on the bed next to me. "Sit down," I tell him, "Talk to me."

He looks at me, wild. Then, slowly walks over to the bed and sits down beside me. He hunches over, his head falling into his hands. Immediately, my hand is on his back, rubbing gently. He exhales a long, hollow breath.

"You said we needed to talk," I remind him softly. "Just talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking...feeling. Tell me everything."

When he finally speaks, I almost wish he hadn't. "This is so fucked up." The rawness in his voice is tangible.

I don't say anything. This isn't really how I pictured our reunion turning out. There was no cinematic hazy glow, no dramatic declaration of love, no soft-spoken 'I remember everything', no passionate I-missed-you-so-much kiss. There's only this. An angry, broken boy and the girl rubbing his back, trying to hold herself together. I can't help but think, this would make a really awful movie.

When Adrian doesn't say anything else, I finally ask _The Question_. "Adrian," I say, "Do you remember-"

"Oh, I _remember_," he spits out the word like a curse. "I remember all of it."

Does 'all of it' mean us? Does 'all of it' mean me?

"You did something," he says quietly. There's no anger in his voice, no accusatory barb. No emotion at all, really. "What did you do? To make me remember, I mean."

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what...happened." I say honestly. "I tried a lot of things to make you remember. At first I thought just seeing me would work," I laugh, feeling incredibly embarrassed, for some reason. "But then obviously it didn't. So then I thought maybe if I just spent some time with you...if I touched you...if I kissed you..."

He lifts his head up to look at me. "That's why you kissed me?"

Instead of answering him, I find myself blurting out, "You seemed pretty happy when I answered the door."

He sighs heavily at that, closing his eyes. "I was." He opens his eyes, looks away from me. "And then I saw you. Really saw you. Touched you. Smelled you. And all these memories came rushing back and I just..." he shakes his head, "This is all so fucked up, Sydney. I mean, Jesus I- I don't even know how long ago..." He turns to me, suddenly. "How long ago was it?"

I blink. "You mean...when they caught us?"

He just stares into me, eyes pleading.

"It was a little over a year ago," I manage to croak out. It is the hardest thing I've ever had to say.

He lets out a strangled, almost-laugh. "A year," he shakes his head. "A fucking year of my life that I'll never get back."

"It was a year of my life, too." I whisper and my vision blurs hot and wet.

"What did they do to you?" He asks, still in that low, emotionless voice.

"Nothing," I answer. "They didn't do anything to me. They just..." I swallow, "Made you forget. About me. About us. Everything."

Something changes in Adrian, then. He reaches for me, pulls me to him again. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" I hook my chin over his shoulder, "None of this is your fault."

For a couple minutes, neither of us say anything. I stare at the wall behind Adrian as we simply breathe against each other.

"I'm just so..." he finally says, "Angry. I'm so fucking angry, you have no idea."

I think I might.

"I'm angry too," I tell him, running my hands down his back again. He responds with a small, almost imperceptible shudder, and I know that my touch is pleasing him. At least there's that.

"It's like there's then...and there's now..." he says, pulling back from me. "I feel like I've fucking time traveled or something, except I remember all the shit that happened in between and it's...weird. It's so weird. It's freaking me out."

"Don't freak out," I say, trying to smile. "Just tell me what you're feeling. Let me...help you if I can."

"And I'm upset," his face twists in pain. "God, I'm so upset. I mean...I..." he looks at me, like it hurts. Touches my face. Sighs. "It's been a year."

Longer than that, but who's counting?

"I know I'm acting like a headcase," he murmurs, touching his forehead to mine. "I'm sorry. Beneath all these screwed up feelings, I am...happy. I'm happy I'm with you right now. I'm happy that you're okay. I just...it's hard to explain."

His face is so close to mine. I briefly consider kissing him, then thankfully decide against it.

_Okay, Sydney_, I tell myself. _Time out. Adrian is here. Adrian says he remembers everything. Things are not magically all put back together again. This still sucks. This is life, and it doesn't happen like a movie. And you are just going to have to deal with it. Time in. _

"I understand," I say, bringing a hand up to touch the side of his face. "I can't imagine what it feels like, having your mind tampered with like that...and then having all the memories rush back..." My throat dries up midsetence as I truly realize just how horrifying what has been done to Adrian is. I remember what Stanton told me. I pull back from him to say, "Thank you."

His eyebrows quirk upward. "For what?"

"Stanton told me about what you said to her...about my mind...it's why she didn't..." I have to bite my lip. Look away. "Thank you."

"Well," He says with the hint of a sardonic smile. "At least there's that." Then as quickly as it appeared, the smile is gone.

"So all this time, you've just been...doing what?" He looks so lost. "I don't understand. I mean...I understand but- help me out here."

"Well part of the deal of getting to keep my memories was recommitting myself to the alchemists," I say slowly, carefully. Adrian looks horrified, his eyes now locked on the fresh, unbroken lily on my cheek. "It's not real," I tell him as he lifts his hands to stroke it. "I mean, the tattoo is, but there's no Moroi blood in it. No compulsion. Stanton took care of that. Also part of our deal."

Adrian still looks sickened. "None of this should have happened," he whispers.

"But it did," I say and he flinches. "We can't change the past. We can't regain the time we've lost. But..." I trail off. In all honesty, I don't know what we're supposed to do from here.

"You should call Jill," I say, just to fill the silence. "She's the one who helped me find you."

"Jill?" Adrian says, confused, and for one terrifying moment I think _oh God, does he not remember? Are there still gaps that need to be filled? _

"How did she...? Oh, the bond." Adrian quiets my fears a second later. "God, I haven't talked to her in ages. I didn't even...I mean of course I remembered her but I didn't even think about what I must have been putting her through..the drinking and..." he sighs, "They really messed me up."

"I'm sorry," I say, though I know how useless the phrase is. "You don't know how sorry I am that this happened to you, Adrian."

"It's not your fault," Adrian sighs, "This whole situation is just...I don't even know how to process it all."

"If it's any consolation, you haven't been putting Jill through anything, other than making her miss you terribly," I say. "She hasn't been able to feel you through the bond at all for awhile. She only got a glimpse recently, she knew you were in New York, and that's how I found you."

"Have you been looking for me all this time?" There's a note of wonder in his voice.

"Not exactly," I smile. "I couldn't. Not with Stanton breathing down my neck twenty-four-seven. I had to wait her out. Wait for her to trust me again. And then Jill called me and told me about New York and everything just sort of snowballed from there." I try to laugh, "And all I could think about was how I was going to get you back, how I was going to make you remember, I don't know..." I shake my head. "It's weird to think about. And I'm embarrassed of how obsessive I've been. That's not...like me. But I haven't been like me. Not since it happened. I've never lost someone like that before. I didn't know how to process it then...and I still don't. So," I take a long breath, "You're not the only one who's at a loss right now."

"Just give me a minute," he says, falling back against the bed and putting his hands over his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths, then starts narrating his thoughts out loud. "So that shit Stanton injected me was what? Chemical X?" I start to reply but he just barrels on, "Whatever it was screwed with my mind. Made me forget everything that happened in Palm Springs. I knew what was happening at the time, sort of. That's all still fuzzy. I remember waking up in that place and not knowing where the hell I was. Then they took me into a room and questioned me, asked me random shit that didn't make any sense to me then..." I swallow, remembering the tape Stanton had showed me to prove Adrian truly had no memory of me. "Makes sense now." The anger returns to his voice. He sits up, shaking his head.

Then he looks at me and says, "God, I missed you." My breath catches.

"I thought I was just depressed," he continues in a low, intense voice, "that I was just slowly losing my mind for good. Because there was just this huge hole inside of me. And no matter what or who I tried to fill it with, it just got bigger and bigger, and I couldn't make sense of it." His eyes bore into mine. "It was awful. And I just kept thinking, something's not right. This isn't where I'm supposed to be or who I'm supposed to be and then I'd just tell myself that spirit was making me crazy," his voice breaks, the sound of his pain tearing through me. "Everything that happened in Palm Springs, everything that happened between us, that's part of who I am. And they took that away from me. They took _you_ away from me. In the worst possible way. And that makes me..." he takes in a shaky breath, "so angry. And sad. And..._fuck_. I don't know if I can deal with this. And you, Jesus, Sydney I don't even know how horrible it must have been for you-"

"Don't worry about me," I tell him, moving forward slightly so I can put my hands over his. "_I'm_ fine. All I wanted was for you to get your memories back, because you're right, all of that is part of who you are. You're you again, and that's all that matters to me."

"I don't understand," he shakes his head at me. "How can you be like this? Be this strong? If I was in your position I'd _would_ have gone fucking crazy. If I had to watch someone else kiss you right in front of me, I couldn't have handled it, I'd have punched him in the face."

"There were times I wanted to punch _you_ in the face," I smile softly, a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

"You should have," he smiles back. "Well, not my face. I am quite partial to that. But a good old fashion blow to the back of the head probably would have done the trick."

"I was close to resorting to blunt force," I tease lightly, "But even the back of your head is too pretty to mar."

"So wait," Adrian relaxes into a half-lying position, leaning toward me. "What triggered the memories, then? Just you being around me finally worked?"

"Well," I say, feeling myself blushing, "There was the tea."

"The tea?" He raises an eyebrow, then throws his head back and laughs. "Wait, wait. The sage tea? You drugged me? Shame on you." His wicked grin makes my blush burn hot.

"I did not _drug_ you," I reply, biting back a smile. This is a very serious matter. "It was just tea. With rubbed sage in it. That I may have...added a little extra kick to."

"Extra kick?" he asks, then laughs again. "You mean...magic?"

"Yes," I say shyly. I clear my throat, composing myself.

He looks at me seriously for a moment, then breaks into another awful, _awful_ smile. "That's kind of hot."

An unexpected laugh escapes me. "What?!" I shake my head. "How on earth is that hot?"

He leans closer to me, dropping into a low, sing-song sort of voice. "Sydney Sage, the badass witch, putting me under her spell."

"Oh...please!" I finally manage to sputter. "You make it sound so sinister."

"I'm thinking of another word that starts with S," he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"You were already under a spell," I counter. "A bad one. All I did was break it."

"You're right," he nods, "that's much better. I was like Sleeping Beauty and you were Prince Charming."

"Phillip," I correct.

"Huh?"

"The prince's name in Sleeping Beauty is Phillip, not Charming."

"I lose my memory for one year and all of a sudden you're flaunting your superior pop culture knowledge in my face?" Adrian dramatically shakes his head in mock disgust. "My God, what else have I missed?"

"Nothing much," I say, falling into a similar almost-lying position on the bed. "I'm still the same as always. Though I did lose my mind there, I think, for a little bit." I try to smile. It doesn't really work. "I just missed you so much. I've never felt...like that before. I felt like I was dying, most days. Some days I wanted to..." I take a deep, shuddering breath. "Die." There, I've said it. "I don't know what came over me. I...I mean I know that sounds insane and ridiculous and melodramatic-"

"It doesn't sound like any of those things," Adrian cuts me off gently. "That's what heartbreak feels like, Sage. It hurts like hell. As dramatic as it might sound, it _does_ feel like you're dying, some days. That doesn't make you crazy or weak or stupid or any other negative adjective that I know you're thinking."

"And how do you know what I'm thinking?" I challenge, almost smiling.

Adrian says, reaching for my hands, "Because I know you."

And then it happens. I smile a real, almost-forgot-how-to-do-it, smile. Because yes. Yes, he does.

"I want to kiss you," he says softly. My heart settles in my throat. "I want to do a lot more than kiss you. But..."

"I know," I say, looking down.

"I have to talk to her first," he sighs heavily, "I should have talked to her before I came to see you but...it just happened so fast. And I was afraid you might already be gone and I just...I needed to see you. Now."

"I know," I say again.

"It just..." he winces, "this is weird to talk about."

I nod. "Yes, it is."

"It would feel wrong," he says. "And I don't want anything we do together to ever feel wrong."

I don't know what to say to that.

"You're mad at me," he frowns at my silence. "I know."

I shake my head. "I'm not mad at you, Adrian. It's just hard. And weird. And...not fair," I whisper, knowing I sound like a child.

His frown deepens. "It's unfair for all three of us."

All three of us. I do not like the sound of that. I never took into consideration what would become of Rebecca after Adrian got his memories back. She was a nice girl but she was, after all, just a girl. She wasn't...me. And Adrian loves _me_, doesn't he? He wants to be with _me_, doesn't he? Maybe it's more complicated than that. Maybe he still loves her too. The thought makes my blood run cold.

"I've upset you," Adrian says, reaching forward to grab my wrist. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I feel like we've been doing nothing but apologizing to each other and then telling each other not to apologize. "I understand...I do. But...it's just frustrating. You were my Adrian first. And now your hers. And it's hard for me to wrap my head around." I cringe, knowing how utterly ridiculous I sound.

He moves his hand from my wrist to the side of my face, pushing my hair behind my ear. And then he says, "I'm still yours." He shakes his head at me. "Of course I'm yours. But I have to tell her about this. About us. I mean...she's my girlfriend, as weird as that is. And as someone who's been cheated on I just...I can't do anything with you until I've 100 percent broken things off with her."

"Technically, you've been cheating on me with her," I remind him, which is a cheap shot, and strikes him harder than I anticipated, judging by his crestfallen expression. "Not that I blame you," I add quickly, "I mean...you didn't know. But, still. It hurts. It hurts thinking of you being in love with someone else."

"I'm not in love with her," he says immediately. "I never was. I tried to convince myself I was, but I wasn't even myself all that time. But I do care about her. I don't want to hurt her anymore than I have to."

"I'm being a selfish child, I know," I say miserably.

"No, no you're not." Adrian murmurs, sidling closer to me. "This isn't fair to you, Sydney, I know that. And you're being way more of an adult than I would be right now." He sighs, "Come here. Let me hold you."

"So cuddling isn't cheating, then?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

He scoffs. "Forget about that, just come here."

I smirk, not moving forward an inch. "Come and get me."

He pulls me forward with an agitated growl and I can't help the girlish squeak that comes out of me. He squeezes me tight and I press my face shamelessly up against his, relishing in this closeness.

"I think I missed this more than anything," I whisper to him, my hands roaming to whatever places on his body they can reach. "Just being close to you, like this."

It occurs to me that what we're doing, on some level, is much more intimate than kissing.

I think Adrian realizes this at the same time I do, because the look he gives me is pained. He closes his eyes and lets his face settle into the crook of my neck. His breath on my skin turns my insides to liquid. After a moment, he pulls back to look at me. "You really feel like I cheated on you? Or were you just trying to make me feel bad?"

"It's just weird," I say honestly. "I told you, I don't blame you-"

"But it doesn't change the fact that I was with someone else," he finishes, though that's not...exactly what I was going to say. "That I...did things with someone else." He winches and it's not like I'm surprised, I mean, I saw them kiss right in front of me but, still. _Things_. With someone else.

"Don't dwell on it," I tell him softly. "It's a messed up situation. And it's not your fault."

"I'm not dwelling," he says, "Just...thinking."

"What are you thinking?" I ask, my finger tracing the contours of his face.

"About how much I want to kiss you."

I sigh, "Now you're just being mean."

"I think it'd be okay if I kissed you," he says slowly as my fingers pass over his lips, "I mean, it's only fair, right?" He wants me to give him permission, tell him I absolutely need him to kiss me, that it _would_ be fair, and as much as I want to do nothing but just that, for some reason, I can't.

With a heavy sigh, I pull away from him and wriggle into a sitting position on the bed. "I don't want to do anything you'd regret later. Kissing can wait. Just having you back is more than enough."

He sits up with me and echos my sigh. I know how frustrated he is, I can tell by the tense roll of his shoulders, the slight twitch of his mouth. I feel the same way. But, this is the way it has to be. For now.

"We'll get through this," I try my hardest to keep a chaste distance from him, placing my hand over his in as much of a non-intimate way as I can. "Just like we get through everything."

"We're pretty awesome like that," I can hear the difference in his voice when he smiles. "Although I do wish we could just skip all the bullshit for once and fast forward to the part where we ride off into the sunset together."

"Sometimes it's worth lingering on the journey for a while before getting to the destination," My lips twist into a wry smile, "A wise man once told me that."

"A wise man, huh?" Adrian chuckles. "Sounds like my kind of guy."

"A very handsome, charming wise man, if I recall correctly." I continue breezily, "with messy brown hair and breath-taking green eyes."

"Ah, now I remember this really really ridiculously good looking wise man of which you speak," Adrian says, our faces suddenly much closer together than they were a minute ago. Then he says, "But the journey he referred to then was more fun than this one." He drops his voice to a whisper, a sly grin creeping its way onto his face, "_a lot _more fun, if I recall correctly." Suddenly his face contorts, as if he just remembered something. "Shit!" he exclaims. "Speaking of riding into the sunset, what happened to my car? Did you take it?"

"It's collecting dust in a storage room," I tell him sadly. "Thanks to Ms. Terwilliger."

"Ah, good old Jackie." He exhales a breath of relief. Then once he sees my expression, asks, "What's wrong? It's not damaged, is it?"

"No," I say quietly. "Not the car."

He raises an eyebrow in question and I find it hard to say out loud, as that will somehow make it more real. I swallow the lump in my throat and decide to go for the band-aid ripping route. "Hopper is...gone." It tumbles ever so ungracefully out of my mouth, but softening the blow with phrases like 'went to a better place' just seem ridiculous right now.

"Gone?" Adrian asks, "As in like...dead?"

"Back to wherever he came from, I suppose. But gone from this world, at least."

Adrian lets this information sink in, his face creasing in sadness. "What happened? His time just came up?"

"Ms. T took care of that as well," I say, the lump in my throat now unable to be swallowed. "He didn't understand us suddenly being gone. He wouldn't take food or anything, he was so sad. She finally sent him back ahead of schedule. She couldn't bear seeing him like that."

"Jesus," Adrian sighs, his voice sounding as tight as my throat feels. He looks at me, his eyes a little glassy. "And there's no way you can bring him back?"

I shrug. "I don't know, I mean, I'd have to talk to Ms. Terwilliger about it. I hadn't really thought about that, my priority's been bringing _you_ back for so long."

Adrian smiles at that, "Well, mission accomplished. Now onto the next super-human feat, Wonder Woman."

I shake off my grief and smile back at him. I know that if I just twist my body slightly and let my weight fall against Adrian, he would not push me away, but pull me closer. I know that if I lowered him to the bed and pressed my body, my lips to his he would press right back. I know if I told him I needed him to be mine, in every way, right this second, he would give himself to me. I know that he wants me. That he loves me. And no one else. And knowing that is all that I need. The rest can wait.

"Do you want to go somewhere with me?" I ask, taken by sudden lightness.

"Yes," Adrian answers immediately, as I knew he would. "Where did you have in mind?"

* * *

We hold hands inside the museum, like it's our very own safe, secret place. I am reminded of our time at the Getty Villa, kissing by the pool, being blissfully and stupidly in love. That's a feeling you can never get back, you know. The first time you truly open yourself up to love, that immaculate feeling of dizzying happiness. As weird as it sounds, I think I might like this feeling better. I know now how precious our time is together, how quickly everything can be lost. I am grateful for every second. The cold, dark of heartbreak only makes this moment, this rush of new love, a second chance, that much sweeter. I wouldn't have been able to experience this good had I never felt the bad.

Adrian lets me pull him along as I babble ceaselessly about the exhibits we see. I am wearing the sweater he brought to me. Did I mention how much I love this sweater? It's such a nice shade of yellow. Comfortable, breathable fabric. Practical. Dependable. It also smells like Adrian. I suppose it should, as he carried it all the way to my hotel room. I can almost feel the weight of him wrapped around me, as if a piece of his presence wormed its way into the fibers.

"Am I boring you?" I turn to him, stopping in the middle of a large room.

"Never," he assures me, "If all teachers sounded as sexy as you do when they talk about this shit, I would have gotten straight A's all through school."

"Mind your tongue," I give him my best stern voice, "There are children around, you know."

"My tongue has a mind of its own," his smile is pure sin. "Right now it's thinking- well, I'll have to show you later. It's something that requires a bit of a _demonstration_."

I consider kissing him for the thousandth time. This is our safe, secret place. No one knows either of us here. Our hands are still clasped tightly, fingers interlocked. I think we're both afraid that if we let go, the other might inexplicably vanish. That maybe this is all still a dream. One of us or maybe both lean forward, our faces inches apart. Suddenly, the sound of a small child wailing to the side of me startles me out of my trance, and I look toward the noise, the moment over.

A little boy is wrenching away from an old woman as she tries to grab his hand.

"Grandma!" he hisses, red faced. "Stop it! I'm too big to hold hands!"

"Why that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard," the old woman has a deep southern drawl. She looks up and sees me staring. I blush and her face melts into a kind, knowing smile. "Would you look at that boy right there?" She points to Adrian. "He's much older than you and he's holding hands." I look down to our clasped hands, feeling like I've been caught doing something I shouldn't be.

"She's right," I hear Adrian's voice say gently. "Holding hands keeps you from getting lost. And I _hate_ being lost, don't you?"

The boy leans against his grandmother, suddenly shy. "Yeah," he finally relents.

"It's the worst," Adrian tells him, nodding his head seriously. "But holding hands is the best. See?" He lifts our hands to show him. "You're lucky you've got someone you wants to hold your hand. Lots of people don't."

"I guess so," the boy mumbles, all his child-like rage subsided. His hand now blindly reaching for the old woman's.

The woman walks toward us, then, the boy scrambling to keep up. "Let me guess," she smiles brightly at us. "Newlyweds?"

"Guilty as charged," Adrian says before I can correct her.

"I thought so," she nods sagely, not so much as bothering to look down and check our hands for rings. "Y'all got that honeymoon aura about'cha, lightin up the whole dang room. Best of luck to you, both." And she ambles past us, toting her wayward grandson behind her.

I shake my head at him, unable to bite back my smile. "You should know, I'm finding you alarmingly irresistible right now. The way you were with that little boy..." I shake my head again. "You're cute."

"Maybe you're ovulating," Adrian leans in to whisper. "That's why you're finding my impeccable paternal skills so hot." He flashes me a suggestive smile.

I shoot him a pointed look. He just laughs, pulling me into an embrace.

"Relax," he says, "having kids is years away. But can you imagine? Your brains, my charm. Our collective good looks... then add in the usual physical abilities dhampirs gets. It's really not even fair to everyone else."

I can't form a response, my brain is currently stuck at _having kids is years away_. Years, he said. We have years to think about having kids. Years to walk through museums. Years to hold hands. Years to kiss. We have a future, together. It is, without a doubt, the best feeling in the world.

* * *

**R**

I didn't worry when an hour came and went without a word from Adrian. Nor was I particularly surprised. His absent mind is part of his charm, or at least that's what I always told myself. I know whatever he's talking to Sydney about must be important. Maybe he was struck with sudden artistic inspiration and is sketching her again, or maybe he just went for a walk. I know he is capable of taking care of himself. I know he is an adult and can do whatever he wants. I tell myself these things over and over and refuse to let myself become The Worrier, The Paranoid, The Panic-Girl. I shrug off those heavy sashes and kick them into dust. They do not define me.

Instead I eat my breakfast for one in quiet contentment. If I tell myself I am content, I will be. I think, therefore I am. I am the master of my own mind. Etcetera. Another hour passes and I will away the prickling anxiety that trickles up my legs, stomping it out beneath my feet.

I'm just about to head out for a walk myself, in hopes the 'fresh' air will clear my head, when a knock sounds at the door. I don't know who it could be and that makes me nervous. Adrian wouldn't knock, he has a key, unless he forgot it, he did leave rather quickly. It could be Sydney, but why would she come here if she was with Adrian? Unless Adrian never made it to Sydney, or something terrible happened. I give my overactive mind a mental kick in the proverbial throat and walk jelly-legged to the door, opening it to reveal an unfamiliar woman.

"Uh, hello." I give her a polite smile. "Can I help you?"

"I surely hope so," she sounds exhausted yet somehow buzzed at the same time. "If you'll allow me into your residence, Miss Winters, I'll be happy to explain my presence."

I back away into my apartment, blinking in confusion. "You know my name," I cross my arms over my chest.

She smiles wanly, darting her eyes around the apartment briefly, then settling her gaze on me. There's something commanding about her presence and I feel oddly inclined to listen to her. "I apologize for barging in on you like this, but allow me to explain."

She talks to me like I'm some kind of client of hers, which is weird, but I nod once, urging her to continue.

"Rebecca Winters," she says, her eyes scanning me like I'm a barcode. "Moroi, age 23. Daughter of John and Maria Winters. Birthplace...Seattle, Washington. You moved to New York City at the age of 20. You've been in an exclusive relationship with Adrian Ivashkov, Moroi, age 22, son of Nathan and Daniella Ivashkov, for quite some time, now, yes?"

I startle, immediately descending into panic mode. "What's going on? Is Adrian hurt? What happened? Where is he?"

The woman remains calm, which just freaks me out more. Who the hell is this lady and why does she know so much about me? Why is she asking me about my relationship with Adrian?

"I'd like you to come with me," she simply replies, not answering any of my questions. "I'm a bit short on time, I'll explain everything on the way."

I take a defensive step back, though somehow I know I'm going to follow her anyway. "On the way to where?"

* * *

**S**

We're laughing about something when we step into the hotel lobby, though I'm not sure at what. I think we might be deliriously happy. The elevator ride up to my room is thick with the suffocating tension that swirls between us. The need to pull him close to me outweighs rational thought and I do just that. His lips press lightly against the top of my head. A kiss. Call it what it is. I allow it. Top of the head kisses are fair game. Top of the head kisses are wholly innocent. And infinitely pleasant. So, yes, I allow it.

I'm telling Adrian he can order food when we get back to my room when he stops abruptly in the middle of the hallway, causing my arm to tug painfully. I'd forgotten we were still holding hands.

He drops my hand and I look up at him, confused. The look on his face says it all. Ice cold dread encircles my heart and I look toward my room. Standing outside of it, arms crossed and eyes intense, is Rebecca. And standing beside her, smug grin and cross to bear, is Donna Stanton.

"Hello, Sydney," she says, taking a few steps toward me. "Miss Winters and I have been waiting for quite awhile. If you'd be so kind as to invite us into your room, I think it'd do us all well to have a little chat."


End file.
